The Hunger Games: Spoiled Sapling
by CragmiteBlaster
Summary: In the Hunger Games, you either win or you die. But during the Bloodbath, the District Seven Female only goes halfway towards defeat, feigning death as the carnage rages on. Spoiled and pampered all her life and with a Mentor who gave up on helping her right from the start, can Nettle prove Johanna wrong and show she's got what it takes to survive? Part of The Nameless Chronicles.
1. Day 1: The Cornucopia Bloodbath

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

 **Note:** Here we are, the start of another timeline! Due to how Bloodline Betrayal has taken a while to reach the Arena stage of the story, and how there has been a desire to see the next Lead of the series make their official debut, I decided why not go ahead and submit chapter one? Much like when Sickle made her debut as a lead, it's just going to be chapter one up until Bloodline Betrayal has been finished, but I think this one's a pretty strong opener. So, are you all ready to say hello to the elegant and spoiled Mayor's Daughter from District Seven? If you clicked on this story I am gonna assume the answer is yes, heheheh, so read on and enjoy!

* * *

It's a forest that I see once the pedestal has risen, but it's not filling me with any confidence. Sure, District Seven is known for Lumber and many deep, expansive forests, but I was never really a lumberjack. I didn't work in the trees or with an axe. I… never really worked a day in my life. I was less the 'girl with the axe' and more the 'pampered girl who relaxes at home'. I can see from where I am standing that Wood has a sudden look of immense hope on his face as he gazes around the clearing. At least one of us is feeling cheerful. I bet I look a little green, if any cameras are focusing on me.

Oh, I haven't introduced myself, have I? Nettle Bonsai of District Seven. The mayor's daughter. Charmed… but with the situation I'm in right now, any charm is long gone. I'm sixteen and my name was only in the reaping bowl five times. I was as safe as I could possibly be at my age, but I got my name picked and nobody stood in place of me. What does it matter to them if the spoiled Mayor's daughter has to get her hands dirty? It matters little, or maybe less than that. Now, I'm in the Hunger Games. Just one rule here, outlive twenty three other kids and you can go home… that, or you die.

I'm never getting out of here… I'm never getting out! This forest is gonna be my grave! I'm trying not to cry, I'm trying to keep it together. I need to act my age, show some kind of firmness. That girl from Three cried a lot, but she's thirteen. I'm older, and therefore I should be stronger. But as my Mentor said to me, I'm weak and spoiled… she said I'm gonna face reality and how hard life is.

Johanna told me I have no chance and thus she didn't bother to help a 'lost cause'. I tried to prove her wrong with my training. I really did. In the end I scored a 6 and my odds were 7-1. I didn't think this was bad, but Johanna just pointed to that curly haired boy from Four who got a higher score despite his young age. It's hopeless, she told me. Just die early and get it over with, she told me.

I may have been spoiled all of my life, but I'm a lady. And… a lady does not take the coward's way out! I must try to win, and get out of here. Or… well, literally die trying. But, what do I do? What do I do?!

...What do I do…?

My breath is very shaky, my chest tight and my stomach feeling a horrible sort of queasy. I grip my braids tightly, trying not to scream or sob. That'd only prove everybody right. Not that there is much to prove. I'm spoiled and a bit of a snob. I don't deny it.

But, I'm not just those things. I'm alive as well. And it's all in my own hands to make sure that won't change. It's all on me. Nobody else. I don't expect much in the way of sponsors after all. Not with how the pair from Twelve basically stole the show. If I were watching them I'd have cheered on their romance… being here though, I only felt even less hope, and missed my own lover even more. Oh, Ranger…

The pounding of the countdown clock begins. For one minute, just one precious minute I am safe. No longer than that. The Cornucopia is right in front of me, full of all the gear I could ever need. Issue is, most of the other Tributes are going to want it as well… enough to kill. I look to my left and I can see a few of the others already preparing themselves to run in. The boy from Two looks deadly, and the boy from One even moreso. Marvel, his name I have no issues remembering. He was very clear about just how badly he was gonna cut me to pieces in the Arena. To my right I see the Boy from Twelve, Peeta. He seems a strange sort of calm. Beyond him, I can see that huge boy from Eleven is clenching his fists in determination and at the furthest end of the line the Girl from Nine looks fiery and ready to begin.

Do I risk it? Do I run in to grab some supplies, or do I just run away and try to hide in the forest and hope nobody catches me before I can… do something? Not sure what the something is, but the best way to not die in the Bloodbath is to run away from it. Common sense, really.

No, I need to run in. I'm spoiled and pampered, that's what Johanna said. She's a Victor… I know she's right. I won't survive without any supplies. Not that she expects me to survive anyway, but with a hatchet, or some water or even just a loaf of bread, then maybe…

 _30 seconds…_

Will Wood help me? We're from the same District and killing your own District Partner is not something anybody approves of, but he did want to be coached separately. Not that I was really coached at all. If he lives past day one then I might be able to talk to him, but he's not required to help me. He was rather distant in training. Jason from Six, he was sweet though. Suffering, but sweet. I think he could have my back for a few days.

 _15 seconds…_

Whatever happens, I have to avoid the Careers. Marvel most of all. The look in his eyes as he talked of killing me, and then said my 'freckles were cute'… I'd never felt more violated in my entire life! I feel sicker now, thinking about that. Breath Nettle, happy thoughts. Not that they will change the situation I'm in.

One last thought of my kettle collection doesn't help.

 _10 seconds…_

I'm going to die.

 _9 seconds…_

I'm about to die.

 _8 seconds…_

I'm dead, I'm dead!

 _7 seconds…_

I'm too spoiled to survive!

 _6 seconds…_

I wish I could have done more to patch up things with my dad. We were so distant, hardly a family.

 _5 seconds…_

But Ranger. He believed in me. I saw in his eyes he was being sincere.

 _4 seconds…_

He told me my victory was as sure as his love for me.

 _3 seconds…_

I trust him. I think of this trust as I ready myself to run.

 _2 seconds…_

If I'm gonna die, then let me die having made an effort and worked for a chance to live, rather than die doing nothing.

 _1 second…_

"Axe no questions, tell no lies," I say. It's the District Seven motto. The District I will one day lead… if I don't get killed first.

A loud horn rings out across the Arena, and it begins.

Desperation filling me up already, I charge towards the Cornucopia and the supplies littering the area around it. Most of the tributes do the same. I don't check for who is fleeing though. They don't matter now. What matters is grabbing supplies and then running for my life!

A scream filling the air makes me cease my sprint. Screeching to a halt I glance back. I only see Marvel killing that strong boy from Eight with a kukri for a split second before I cry out, somebody crashing right into me. I cast one look at the fallen Girl from Four clutching her ankle before I'm scrambling forwards again. As I hear a scream and somebody else drop dead I know I have made the ultimate mistake.

I should have run away.

"Come on, come on!" I mutter to myself, trying to will myself to get up and get moving.

I'm on my feet. Tributes are around me and none of them are killing me, yet. What am I doing?! Why am I still running to the Cornucopia!? Somebody screams somewhere beside me and an instant later a splatter of warm, sticky blood covers the back of my neck. Whose blood is it?! ...Not my own, and that's the main thing. Still unharmed, still alive.

I scream as I fall forwards, roughly hitting the ground. I don't know if I was punched or somebody just crashed into me, but I'm laying face down on the ground right in front of the Cornucopia. All of the best gear surrounds me, easily in reach. But if I grab it, my pampered and smooth hands are sure to become bloody. Just like my guts will be. The shouts and screams fill my ears, with footsteps everywhere.

It's hard work, trying not to vomit in pure panic. It's so… hard…

Vomit covers the ground around my face, some of it on me. But with all the people running around me, fighting and screaming, I don't _dare_ move. Lying still with blood on my neck and vomit on my face, I try not to wail. It's hard. So hard! So horribly hard! My heart pounds like it may burst, and my throat burns from how sickly I'm feeling.

 _I'm too spoiled to survive_ , I can't help but think. No! I can't think like that! I may be spoiled, but that's a good thing too. I've never gone hungry and I'm a healthy weight for my small size. I can do this, I can do this. I can't let myself give up. The moment you lose hope, you die. Happens to Tributes every year. Tributes who had lived rougher lives than me.

I barely hold back a scream as a jolt of pain enters my side. Somebody must have tripped over me. I shut my eyes tighter when I hear the sound of a young boy screaming near me and then an older tribute screaming even louder as a cheer of triumph follows. Despite the scent of blood and my own fear I remain laying still where I am, ignored by all. Wait, do people think I am actually dead?

…

...They do. They must. With the blood on my neck and no way to know if it's really mine, they're assuming somebody else must have killed me and are focusing on each other. Johanna said to just die early… well, then that is what I will do. I'm just not dying permanently.

The pain in my throat and my hip, it's hard to ignore. How can I stay silent when I wish to scream, to cry, to wail? ...Because if I don't, then I am dead. Breath Nettle, be still and wait it out. Like watching a tree grow, be patient.

Time passes with me laying still as a statue, not daring to move. I hardly dare to take silent breaths, in fear anything might give me away. One little sound or twitch, and it's a spear in my back. Or a sword, or knife, or arrow, or a mace to the skull or…

...No. No more of that. _No more_.

I think of Ranger and of the life we could have together back in Seven, I think of my younger years when me and dad used to be close. I think of how I wish to be Mayor one day and to make the District a better place than ever. Any kind of happy thought to keep me from focusing on the sounds of all the bloody carnage, and to stop the rising urge to scream.

I'm not sure how long it's been before it stops. Most likely a few minutes, but it feels like hours. Just like at home where I'd sit and watch the grand wooden clock tick and tick, on and on. But here, I'm not being lazy. I'm trying to stay alive. It's a few moments before I know for sure that the Bloodbath is over. Maybe it's the lack of screaming and panic around me. Perhaps it's the absence of weapons clashing or footsteps thundering.

Or maybe it's just the cheering of a few individuals near me.

Of course. The Careers. Those who train for the Games all their lives and then hunt the rest of us down like rats, winning most of the time. I can only hope this will not be one of those years. If I stay quiet though, perhaps I could learn something. Even if I don't, being quiet will keep me alive.

I can't help frowning at their cheering, no matter how snooty it might make me look – even with the vomit on my face – or how it changes nothing. The fact remains that, for all their bloodlust and how they enjoy the sport and the so called glory of the Games and of victory… they are essentially playing with training wheels on. To me, it's like they are afraid of all the 'outliers' and only feel any kind of confidence or bravery when they have a ridiculously unfair advantage. Essentially, their many 'Great Victors' are cheaters, not true winners.

Then again, maybe I'm biased because I got yanked out of my home and now lay here feeling sore and caked in blood and vomit.

"Alright, that was awesome!" cheers a voice. I know this to be Marvel.

"The best part of the whole Games, besides winning," the other Career boy says with a snicker. I think he was called Cato.

"No, this part is better. When you win, the killing stops," says a more feminine voice. A very cold one. Was this girl Clove?

"So, how many did we kill?" Cato asks. "Shame we didn't beat the record, but there's enough meat here to fill a butcher shop."

"Let's just wait for the cannons," says the other female. Glimmer, that was her name. Spoiled like me, but perhaps with more thirst for blood. "It's music to my ears, hearing those."

"She's right. Why count the bodies when we could be grabbing sharp knives?" Clove asks.

I don't dare breath as Clove walks up to me and swiftly past me. I force myself to breath short and slow breaths. I can't give myself away. Not while these four are here. I force myself to be still. I can't shiver or tremble, no matter my fear. But when the other three come on over, it gets harder.

I'm dead, I'm dead…

"This sword is perfect. Sharp, long… I can't wait to get killing with this," Cato says. I don't have to look at him to know his expression must be sadistic.

"This spear is better. Sharper, and longer." Marvel says. "Girls like a guy with a spear."

"Piss off man, they like a guy with a sword better," Cato replies.

"What do you girls prefer, boys with spears or boys with swords?" Marvel asks.

...Really Marvel? Really Cato? Are you making those kinds of jokes in here of all places? If I wasn't laying face down and trying to be still so I won't be murdered, I'd shake my head.

"Heh. Boys," I hear Glimmer say. "...Swords."

"See Marvel?" Cato says smugly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Marvel replies. "So how much longer before we gear up and go hunting for the fodder?"

"Until the cannons fire. I hope it's soon… I've not stabbed enough people yet," Clove says, icily.

A cannon fires loudly, no doubt able to be heard from any part of the Arena. A second cannon follows it, just as loud and with the same note of finality. A third cannon follows after it, sounding much the same.

On and on the cannons fire until everything is silent, with only the distant sounds of birds left to hear. That was nine cannons that fired. Nine dead kids lay around me, not that I can see them from where I am. I wonder which tributes are dead, specifically. Some of them I didn't expect to last long, but can I judge when both myself and my 'Mentor' thought I'd die here and then be a tenth cannon to the list? I suppose I can't.

"Alright!" Marvel cheers. "Nine dead! Up top Cato!"

I hear a smack of a high five and two loud laughs from the Career boys.

"So, we gotta move for the hovercraft to collect the bodies of these nobodies, right?" Gimmer asks.

I freeze. Well, I was already frozen and immobile, but my insides just felt icy. The Hovercraft will collect the dead bodies.

I'm not dead.

 _ **They'll know**_!

I almost vomit, so very nearly dooming myself. All I can do is lay completely still and pray for some kind of a miracle, as if such things existed.

"Nah, we gave them a good show," Cato replies. "Let them get some good camera shots of the corpses. We'll take inventory and get everything we need sorted out for the hunt. Once we leave they can get them. The bodies ain't going anywhere."

"Not with those bloody wounds they won't be," Clove notes.

Clove walks near me. Right past me. A moment later a fleshy sound fills the air.

"Clove, what the hell was that?" Glimmer asks, sounding weirded out.

"This one didn't join us when we asked him to. Just felt like making my point," Clove says.

The Careers continue to mill around, working together to gather what they need. They comment on the good stuff, tell each other what they find and where to put it and talk about what their favourite murder so far is. All while I lay here, their unknown eavesdropper.

My only chance is that they do not decide to let the Hovercraft come in after all, and that they do not think to count the bodies and compare them to the number of cannons. If either of those things happen…

No, I refuse to think about it. I refuse! ...What good will it do, making me so scared that I scream, and die anyway? They can't stay here forever, they'll leave to hunt down the other ten tributes soon enough, I'm sure.

...Right?

* * *

 **(Several hours later…)**

* * *

I was wrong. They are not leaving. They're still here, and I'm not sure how long it'll be until they decide to go. Or, maybe they won't go? They'll just stay here and maybe decide to wait until tomorrow to start hunting. That'd get me killed. I wish I knew what the time was, but I'm face down and with my eyes closed. If I move my head up, they could see me and… well, I know what'd come next.

By now, they've taken inventory on most of the stuff at the Cornucopia. All four of the Careers have grabbed the very best weapons and are holding them right now. I don't need to see this to know it, because I can hear them practising with them. Marvel and Cato have just finished what I think was a sparring session and both high five.

"You're good," Cato says. "Exactly what we need for this group."

"You know it," Marvel says. "I'm number One, just like home. Ha!"

"Just remember, you got a 9 and I got a 10," Cato says, chuckling in a way most cocky. "Ok, the sun is probably gonna start setting in an hour or so. I think it's time we gear up and set off. We'll come back in the morning, hopefully after at least two kills."

"Any reason we're hunting in the dark and not the light," Glimmer asks. "It'll be harder to find people."

"Maybe so, but they'll have a harder time getting away and we might catch them sleeping. Besides we have two pairs of night vision glasses here, and some flashlights too. The odds are in our favour," Cato states. "Right Clove?"

"Exactly," the other tribute from Two says. "Now, can we just go already? I don't care who we find or what we pack, I just want to kill somebody! I've not stabbed somebody in almost five hours now and I'm starting to get annoyed about it!"

"Easy there," Cato says, sounding a little amused. "We're going, don't you worry. You'll be able to cut somebody up and eat their heart soon."

"Like, ew," Gimmer says.

I hear footsteps coming near me. They stop.

I'm trying not to shake. _Somebody is right next to me_.

"Shame I couldn't kill this one," Marvel says. "I told her exactly what I was gonna do. Which of you stole my kill?"

The other three Careers all deny killing me. Don't check my pulse, _don't check my pulse_!

"So, who killed her then?" Marvel asks.

"Does it matter?" Clove asks. "She's dead, you can see the thick blood, idiot."

"Maybe an Outlier did it. It's not like we're the only ones who are capable of killing. We're just far better at it," Cato adds. Yeah, only because you train and essentially play the Games holding the hand of the big brother Capitol.

"I guess so," Marvel says.

I have to fight hard to not let out a small relieved sigh as he walks away from me. That was so close. I wonder how my District feels, seeing me in serious danger, and yet so far undetected in plain sight. Are they rooting for me, or perhaps more focused on Wood? Or is he dead, several meters from me? I have no idea.

But… actually, I do have an idea. A plan for what comes next. Am I spoiled? Yes. But, are the Careers spoiled? _Oh yes_. Once they leave to hunt, and I get the chance to get up and move around perhaps I could get the best gear from their piles and steal a bunch of it… and then get rid of the rest of it. I saw a lake from where I stood on my pedestal. Sounds like a simply splendid dumping ground for their swords, spears and other things I cannot use very well and also would rather they didn't use either. It's the perfect crime. All it requires is a little patience.

"Guys, guys!" Marvel says, very suddenly. "Look! Look over there!"

For a brief moment of terror I think he means me, but nobody is rushing to me. In fact, I hear the Careers moving the other way. What's going on?

"What's wrong Loverboy?" Glimmer asks smugly. "Lost? Giving up?"

Wait… Loverboy?

"Actually, I'm here because I want to work with you guys," says a voice.

Hey, that's Peeta! Working with the Careers though… no, they never let anybody from District Twelve in their group. I'm trying to brace myself for more screams and splatter sounds. Any moment now, another murder is going to happen mere meters away from me. A tenth cannon and, if I'm not careful, possibly an eleventh too.

As I expected, the Careers laugh. They laugh loud and brutish, and do so for quite some time. It feels like a long time, but maybe closer to a few seconds. Either way, I don't hear any signs of Peeta running away. He's either incredibly brave, or very foolish. But then, I'm probably a fool for running into the fray, aren't I?

"Oh whoa, that's a great offer," I hear Marvel say sarcastically. "How about instead I drive this spear into your throat?"

"Get in line. I wanna see how far Loverboy can run before I nail him with an arrow," Glimmer adds.

"Stabby-stabby," I hear Clove saying, suddenly very eager and gleeful.

"What they said," Cato states with another laugh. "What makes you think we'd want you in our group? What could you possibly offer us?"

"Well for starters I scored an eight. So did Glimmer," Peeta says, still calm.

"So did that curly haired kid from Four, but if we track him down we're not letting him join us," Cato says coldly.

"But unlike him, I'm strong. You saw me throw that large weighted ball," Peeta says, remaining firm.

"Maybe so. You're strong, I'll give you that much," Cato admits. "But maybe we'd rather just kill a threat instead of you?"

"You _sure_ you want to do that?" Peeta asks.

Run you fool, run! What is keeping him there? Fear, pride or suicidal plans? To be frank, it's amazing he's even been allowed to talk for this long. I don't know what his game is here, but it's one that isn't going to let him leave as the Victor. Cato's a brute, challenging him through words isn't a great idea. But then, if they found me that would be my only option too, I guess… besides running away. I'm not exactly superior.

"Why shouldn't we kill you?" Cato asks, sounding amused.

"Yeah, give us one good reason," Clove adds, "And being good looking won't save your life."

"It helps though," Glimmer adds with a giggle. "Hunk of bread, right here."

Eh, Ranger's hotter. Wait… what am I doing?! This isn't the time to think of such things! I need to listen and see how this plays out. Will this effect my own survival, or not?

"Because I have got valuable information that you need," Peeta replies. I think I heard a bit of fear in his voice, but it's hard to tell for sure. "If you want to hunt for threats, I'm not the main one out there."

"Then who is?" Marvel asks.

"Katniss," Peeta says simply. "You keep me alive and give me at least some access to food and water, and I'll lead you right to her. I know her… maybe not personally, but I know how she thinks and acts back home. If anybody is gonna be able to get you to the girl who outscored all of you, it's me. Kill me, and she's gonna be far away, living off the land… all the while, you guys start to run low on supplies. What if a Mutt gets at the supplies and you have to search for her while you're all hungry? You know it's not impossible."

There is a silence. Either the Careers are thinking this offer over, or thinking of the best way to kill Peeta. As for me, I'm affronted! I thought he loved Katniss. His interview made that quite clear. I know that there is only one Victor and one way or the other their possible love is doomed, but to sell her out this fast in spite of loving her? For _shame_ , Peeta Mellark!

"Wait, what about all that stuff in your interview about loving her?" Clove asks, sounding skeptical.

"Yeah, explain that," Glimmer demands.

"You guys actually believed that?" Peeta scoffs. "Sure, she's pretty and I guess I don't exactly mind the idea of being with her, but this is the Arena now. Only one gets out, and I'm not putting her over me. ...I just wanted some extra sponsors, same as anybody else."

I assume the Careers are too shocked to reply. If I were not trying to remain still, I'd slap him! That's cold Peeta, _cold._ Selling out your District partner with some fake love. It's slimy, and I never did enjoy any of the slimy things in life. Ick. But his plan, however low it may be, has merit. For him at least. Not that it will matter if the Careers decide to not take it.

"Say we let you join us, how would you find her?" Cato asks. "I'd rather know we're not giving you small amounts of food and water for no benefit to ourselves."

"I saw the direction she ran to," Peeta says. "I know the kinds of snares and traps she sets up, and how to avoid them. I know how she attempts to hide her tracks, and the sorts of areas of a forest she'd probably hang around. Basically, I know information about her you'd never be able to get otherwise and if you kill me, that knowledge dies with me. You'd be a step closer to Victory, but you may come to regret it… and you know the Games, either you win or you pay the ultimate price for losing."

I hear the Careers whispering quietly to each other, but I can't quite hear what it is that they are saying. But it can only end two ways. A Career pack of five instead of four, or fifteen Tributes becomes fourteen. One very bad for my odds… and one brutal, but in the long run a possible help for me and my life.

Peeta's dead, I just know it. I guess that's what happens when you try to make a deal with trained killers and sell out your District Partner.

"...Ok, fine," Cato says. "But for the record, I do not trust you and you'll be watched at _all times_. Marvel, pack him some stuff into a backpack. Loverboy, grab a weapon. Not a sword though. Those are _mine_."

Well, that'll teach me for assuming something. Somehow Peeta has pulled it off. With five members, this pack has just gotten even more dangerous.

"You won't regret it," Peeta says, sounding rather relieved. "Can I use a spear?"

"Sure," Cato says.

"A knife?" he asks hopefully.

"Get the fuck away from my knives!" Clove hisses.

Fifteen more minutes pass until finally, _finally_ the Career pack are all suited up and ready to get going. I can feel a slight chill, so I guess the sun must be setting by now. I've never spent a single night in the cold in my entire life. I'm used to a mattress, blankets, soft pillows and a teddy. Better get used to roughing it, and fast. I may be nervous of the idea of a night in the forest, but the Careers sound nothing short of delighted at the concept.

"Ok, let's move out," Cato says. "We'll be back by sunrise. Maybe a little earlier. For glory!"

"For glory!" the rest of the Careers echo.

"What if somebody steals from us?" Peeta asks. "It's all here, out in the open."

"The wouldn't _**dare**_ ," Cato says, darkly.

"It's just gonna be a few hours and the rest of the fodder are long gone. If anybody did come by, it'd take a while and we could catch them in the act," Glimmer says, shrugging.

"Plus, if a few apples or something go missing it's not a big deal when we have better training, weapons and sponsors anyway," Marvel states. "Does anybody want to say as a guard?"

A chorus of negative replies fill the air.

"That settles that," Cato says. "Like I said, none of those vermin would dare steal from us. If they do, we'd find out and then..."

I hear a swish sound. Cato must have swung his sword to make a point.

"Well, you know what I mean," Cato says coldly.

"I sure do," Peeta says, sounding uneasy. "Ok, Katniss went that way. Right there."

"Then that's where we'll go," Cato says.

With battle cries, the Careers and Peeta all leave the area, charging away at speed. Whoever they find, I hope they get a quick, clean death. I've seen how the Careers love to draw it out some years. It's sickening, and shameful… it's what the Capitol audience wants, and so it's what they get.

But Cato was wrong about one thing. He said nobody would dare steal from them. The issue there is… I'm gonna rob them dry. Everything I want to have is mine, and anything I don't want them to have is going in the lake. When the faces of the dead are in the sky tonight, I wonder how they will react when my face is not up there and they suddenly realise I faked death and have no doubt helped myself to their best stuff.

The clearing is silent, and both the shouts and the footsteps of the Pack are out of my hearing range. Now, the opening Bloodbath has truly come to an end and the danger has passed, for now.

I'm alone.

Shaking a little, I rise up my feet. I stumble a bit, my legs fairly numb from lying still so long, but soon I find my balance. Wearily I lean against the side of the Cornucopia, taking a few weary breaths.

"I do declare that was scary as shit," I manage to say. "My heart can't take much more of this, and it's not even been one full day."

I shake my head. I have to get a grip. But first, get supplies and get out of here before anybody comes back, be they the Careers or any other Tribute. I have time now, and I can't waste a second.

"Gross," I gag, grabbing a rag on the ground to wipe the blood off of my neck and all the leftover puke off of my face. "So gross. Ok, time to..."

...

...Oh damn.

I feel sick. A little light headed too.

This is a mess, this is wrong…

I stand here alive, but looking around there are nine dead and bloody bodies that cannot say the same. Nine more innocent citizens of Panem taken away by the Capitol for nothing they ever did wrong. It's like standing in a war zone, or a butcher shop. Maybe like something out of the Dark Days. I can't stop myself just slowly walking around, unable to keep my wide eyes off of the bodies laying sprawled around the clearing.

The Boy from Five lays slumped down on his back, his eyes closed and his shirt soaked with blood from a nasty stab.

The Girl from Ten lays flat on her front beside a spear rack, an axe embedded in her skull. I can't stop the sick shiver I feel.

The Boy from Eight lays near the pedestals on his back, his head leaning to one side. Blood is on his chest and his neck. So much of it.

The Girl from Six is crumpled on her side, looking like she has bathed in blood. Her gut area is caked in the stuff. Why is there so much blood?! ...The Bloodbath. Right. The name is fitting.

The Boy from Nine lays face down a distance away, a throwing knife deep in his back, and his eyes stare onwards at nothing. I'm shaking… this must have been Clove's work.

Just a few feet from me lies that huge guy from Eleven… Thresh, was it? Yes, I am sure that was his name. It looks like sword wound has been slashed across his entire gut. Oooo… nasty. And his throat is cut too. Maybe that was the extra hit Clove gave him when I was faking death. Thresh turned them down and paid the price. ...Wait a second… he might have been the one who tripped over me! He died because of me, didn't me?

"Stop thinking that. Stop it," I tell myself, gripping my braids.

Beyond Thresh lays the Girl from Four. The one who bumped into me at the start. Last I saw her she was clutching her ankle in pain, but now she lays on her side still as a statue. A massive blow has been given to her neck and her head seems to be half severed.

I'm starting to feel more than sick now. I'm repulsed, ready to scream! And so, I do. I scream in sheer horror as I fall back onto my butt with a thump. I'm heaving deep, choked breaths as I scoot my way backwards from the dead Girl of the Fishing District. Weary and gasping, I rise again and turn around.

I gag, backing away from the sight of the Girl from Nine slumped over some crates, a knife deep in her chest and her sightless eyes staring at me. I raise my hands in front of me as I walk backwards.

"Gotta get outta here," I mutter. I can't focus, I can't think.

I run to the Cornucopia and screech to a halt. I can see Jason laying on the ground, butchered. He's bruised, has a bump on his head and his torso is covered in scythe wounds. My once possible ally is a sorry sight indeed, and I look away, shivering. He didn't deserve that.

That's nine corpses. Nine dead kids who deserved better. But, nothing can be done for them now. Nothing except their remains being put into a casket and sent back to their homes. I can't even begin to imagine the grief their families must feel. I've never had to feel such kinds of pain, being well off and lacking siblings to be sent into the Games, or any friend who got reaped.

"...Hovercraft is gonna want to come in," I choke out to myself.

Quickly, I'm sprinting away from the Cornucopia as fast as my legs can carry me. Trembling I sink to the base of a tree, taking deep breaths. Looking up to the sky I see the orange sky. A truly beautiful sunset, not that it makes this situation any less ugly. A few seconds pass by before a hovercraft descends from above.

It's hard not to scowl towards the hovercraft. All kinds of medical equipment, food and all such comforts are no doubt on board. What a laugh those foul men and women must be having at us suffering kids right now. I guess I'm not a kid, true, but I've never felt more small and helpless than I do now.

Even if I do survive this forest, and go home to one day be a Mayor, could I change anything? Dad once called it a puppet position. But, he never told me all the nuances of the job, not yet. Could there maybe be something I could do?

...Why am I thinking about all this stuff, anyway? It's irrelevant to my current problem. Well, maybe it's better to think of thoughts that give me some form of escape than to face the fact the hovercraft has extended it's claw to pick up the corpses.

Twenty minutes pass by with me just sitting here, wide eyed and shaking as I watch the dead tributes get taken out of the Arena and into the Hovercraft one by one. Eventually though, Jason's corpse is the last one taken away and the Hovercraft once again ascends up to the sky, out of reach and out of sight.

Once again, the clearing is silent. Truly, I'm all alone.

If I'm gonna start grabbing supplies and starting the plan to get rid of what the Careers need most, then now would be the time to get on with it. So, I rise to my feet and make my way back over to the Cornucopia. It's not hard to find a large backpack to suit my needs. It's empty, but now that nobody else is nearby that won't be any issue.

Luckily for me, the Careers sorted everything into different piles. Weapons in one, food and water in another, sleeping bags and blankets in that one off to the side and so on. It makes it easy for me to grab everything that I'm going to need.

Perhaps too easy. I'm so used to being able to have whatever I need that I'm soon out of space in the backpack and cannot fit anything more inside it. But, I've not even gotten around to putting in a blanket or a medical kit yet. I never did know how to pack lightly. Mainly as I've not really been anywhere. Ok, time to start this again…

* * *

 **(A bit of time passes…)**

* * *

Ok, that took longer than it truly had to. Especially as the sun has almost set on the horizon now, so I'm gonna have to navigate the woods in the dark now. Lucky for me, I've got night vision glasses. I guess the Careers only took one pair of them. Certainly better than a flashlight as they won't give away my position, and for now at least hiding out of sight is my best chance.

I sling on the weighty backpack and grip my hatchet tightly. Nothing more to do here now that so much of the Careers' best supplies have been tossed away into the lake, out of their reach. So, now I simply have to pick a direction to go in.

Certainly not _that_ way over there, that's where the Careers went off to, and I'd prefer to delay any encounter with them for as long as I possibly can. But, it's not just them in this Arena and I've not got any idea where the rest of the Tributes who are still alive may have ran off to. Some, I prefer my chances with over others, but it's not like I know where the weaker ones sped off to when they had the chance.

With a shrug, I settle on moving off towards the south. It's not where the Careers went, and for now that will be good enough for me.

"Ok, first goal, find shelter. Second goal..." I trail off, suddenly afraid.

I'm not alone.

I can see two other Tributes at the edge of the clearing, starting to move towards the pedestals. One looks pretty short, and the other rather tall. I can't exactly tell who they are from over there, but I can tell that, at least, Wood is neither of them. That means zero District loyalty, zero reason to show mercy.

I'm outta here!

Without another glance at the duo, I turn on my heel and sprint off in the opposite direction as fast as my legs can carry me. I don't dare look back to see if they have decided to follow me, I just run and run and run.

It would seem, with the Cornucopia behind me and how I am getting deeper into the dark woods ever second that passes, the 'adventure' has truly begun.

* * *

 **(Time passes…)**

* * *

I breath in, and out. I can see my breath in the night air, it's that chilly. It's really dark, as can be expected, but thankfully I can still find my way thanks to my night vision glasses. Tired as I may be, stumbling along as I wearily hold my hatchet, I'm at least confident I won't be snuck up on by anybody… or, anything. Mutts don't appear on the first day, that's what I've heard, so for tonight only it's one less worry.

But I do have one worry to think about, and that's that I haven't found any adequate shelter. I've been looking for a while for something good such as a cave, or a den under a big tree or… oh, I don't know, somewhere the Careers cannot find me. No such luck. Just an endless expanse of trees, and I don't trust myself with sleeping in them in case I fall out and break my neck. A common enough story in the Games, and it has happened back home in Seven as well. You'd think with what my District number is people would be a touch luckier, hm?

It seems I've reached my limit though. My legs aching nonstop and my throat dry, I drop to my knees and swiftly flop upon my side. I'm silent for a few moments, just laying here in exhaustion. But eventually, I prop myself up on my elbow to try and work out where 'here' is, exactly.

I'm laying upon a grassy hill, and in all directions beyond the moonlit hilltop are trees. Thick, massive trees that tower so very high. I feel vulnerable, not just being out in the open, but also with how… being short as I am, the trees seem even bigger. It's intimidating.

But, when the going gets tough I gotta get going, right? I survived day one, the day where the most Tributes always die… if I can do this, then maybe I do have a chance. I just need to be careful, willing to get my hands – and probably my entire body, and soul – dirty and be cautious with who I trust.

Soon, I drink some water and eat some of the dried fruit and meat I gathered. Not wrinkle my nose a bit, not really used to the common and bitter taste of it all, but I'll have to adapt. I shan't be getting anything better unless I get a sponsor. Of course, to get sponsors I need to actually do things. Johanna never gave me any advice, but perhaps I can learn by example. And, thinking about it, that gives me an idea.

"Just a thought," I say, knowing a camera will hear me. "I have a man in my life back home. His name is Ranger. He's… everything to me. Unlike that bad boy Peeta, this is true… it

is how I feel in my heart. If you sponsor me, then you keep a young couple, joined my true love, alive. I'd be grateful."

A few moments pass. Nothing. No parachutes coming down to me. I guess I'll have to work hard to earn it, to earn the right to be given a chance to live. Well fine, I can handle it. I'll show Johanna, and I'll show her hard come the morning.

But for now, I need sleep. So, I drag myself over to where the grass is longest. Not much, but it might give me just a bit of extra cover. I yawn, starting to settle myself down. Already, I can feel the dreams overtaking me.

Or, at least that would be the case if not for the fact the Anthem has begun. Yawning, I look up to the sky. I know who I'll be seeing, but I may as well look anyway. It's all about showing some respect to the dead. None of the Panem citizens who died in that clearing today deserved it at all. Not a single one of them.

After the Capitol Seal is gone, I see the image of the Girl from Four. I don't meet the gaze of her portrait… fact is, her being dead removes a big worry of mine. That worry being her possibly killing me with a serrated sword.

The Boy from Five then appears. Much like his District Partner he appeared to be clever and logical… but, also, I kind of got the sense of some sort of mischief in his eyes at times. Especially when he was training with making fires. Hmmm…

I feel a small tear in my eye when Jason is shown next. I knew him only briefly, but we hit it off pretty well. I could've counted on him, and when the chips were down he could have counted on me too. But, he's dead and now it's all up to me to avoid the same fate. Poor guy.

The Girl from Six is next. I never spoke to her, but Jason did of course. He said her name was Tamora, and that she was pretty unpleasant and cruel. I'm not sure how true it was or was not, but what I am sure of is the word to describer her now is dead.

Next, the Boy from Eight. I found it very suspect he had joint highest odds to win alongside Cato despite being younger and from Eight, the Textile District. Part of me wonders if cheating of some sort was involved. Guess it's irrelevant now.

Continuing to look up, I see the portrait of the Boy from Nine looking back at me. A tricky and smart kind of guy, he was. I've had a pampered and spoiled life, and I got the sense he was very much my opposite. I did overhear him outright claim to the Girl from Five that he's a 'master thief', after all. Can't say I mind if he stole from the Capitol.

Portrait number seven is the Girl from Nine. That's two Districts eliminated already… I'm not sure what it was about this girl, but she seemed… I don't know how to word it. Just, she seemed so minor and blended in, but that look in her eyes, it made me wonder if she was hiding something. Most of us were scared of the Careers, myself included, but that girl never showed any fear at all. But, no sense overthinking it now that she's dead.

The portrait of the Girl from Ten looks down at me. Guess it was likely to happen with her being so sensitive, and aversive to fighting. Makes me wonder, honestly, why she didn't flee as soon as the Games began. I wonder…

I can't help looking away when Thresh is the last one shown in the sky. He's dead mainly because of me, even if indirectly. After all, he tripped over me and had I not been lying there, well, who knows? Considering how big he was and how tiny I am, maybe it's for the best regarding my own life, harsh as that might be to say. Rest in peace.

The Anthem comes to an end, and once again all is quiet and dark. I've survived day one. But now, I'll need to some sleep. I'm so exhausted.

But, as I lay down and try to get myself comfy in any way possible, I think over everything I know right now. All the scraps of information that might help me.

Fifteen of us are still alive.

Peeta has joined the Careers and says he was faking his love to Katniss. Hrrrrrm…

There was that pair of Tributes I saw at the Cornucopia, so maybe another alliance has formed.

…

The Careers will now be aware of the fact I am still alive, and they might be running back to the Cornucopia right now.

I shiver, scared at the mere thought of them.

* * *

 **END OF DAY 1…**

* * *

 **REMAINING TRIBUTES**

Marvel (District 1 Male)

Glimmer (District 1 Female)

Cato (District 2 Male)

Clove (District 2 Female)

Weldar (District 3 Male)

Gadget (District 3 Female)

Urchin (District 4 Male)

Cinder (District 5 Female)

Wood (District 7 Male)

Nettle (District 7 Female)

Lacey (District 8 Female)

Rammy (District 10 Male)

Rue (District 11 Female)

Peeta (District 12 Male)

Katniss (District 12 Female)

* * *

 **THE FALLEN**

16th- **Jason (District 6 Male)** – Slashed several times in the stomach with a scythe, by Cato.

17th- **Sparky (District 5 Male)** – Speared in the gut with a spear and then stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Wood.

18th- **Sickle (District 9 Female)** – Stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Glimmer.

19th- **Thresh (District 11 Male)** – Disembowelled with a machete, by Cato.

20th- **Marina (District 4 Female)** \- Struck in the neck with an axe by Weldar.

21st- **Miller (District 9 Female)** – Knife thrown into back, by Clove.

22nd- **Tamora (District 6 Female)** – Stabbed repeatedly in the gut, by Glimmer.

23rd- **Sable (District 10 Female)** – Stuck in the skull with an axe, by Cato.

24th- **Callico (District 8 Male)** – Stabbed with a kukri, by Marvel.

* * *

 **TRIBUTE NOTES**

Another timeline means another point of divergence! And as a consequence to Nettle faking death in front of the Cornucopia, the following things have been changed. Boom, butterfly effect!

 **Gadget survives for the following reasons:** Nettle, in her panic, crashed into Marina. Thus, Gadget was able to grab a backpack and flee before Marina could slash her leg with a sword and therefore Sparky never got the chance to finish her off.

 **Urchin survives for the following reasons:** When Thresh tripped over Nettle as she faked death he took the chance to make a run for it. Between the scrawny kid and the huge guy, Cato decided to kill the latter first out of pragmatism and with the other Careers distracted elsewhere Urchin reached the forest.

 **Marina dies for the following reasons:** She was knocked to the ground and, with Nettle faking death and not grabbing supplies, Weldar grabbed an axe without any opposition and took the chance to kill off a stronger tribute.

 **Wood survives for the following reasons:** With Thresh tripping over Nettle as she lay on the ground, he never got the chance to kill Wood. Additionally, Wood also didn't confront him right away due to the trip. Seeing Cato kill Thresh makes Wood do the smart thing and flee.

 **Thresh dies for the following reasons:** Nettle faked death on the ground in front of the Cornucopia, and he tripped over her as he dashed out of the silver horn. Pulling a muscle as he falls over, he is unable to get back up and keep fighting before Cato moves in for the kill.

The timelines has been altered. The path of canon has been forever averted… where will this new timeline lead us? Stay tuned to find out!


	2. Day 2: When It Rains

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

 **Note:** Been a while huh? I've had a few stories on the go and lots of my time has been put into my Master Degree. Originally I was gonna finish Bloodline Betrayal before this story continued, but I felt really inspired for this one and less so for BB. So here we are, Nettle's second day in the Arena... what horrors await our leading lady? Let's find out...

* * *

My eyes flicker open and instantly close again when something lands in them. I shriek, sitting up and scrambling to my feet. I slip on the grass and stumble back down in a heap. Great start to day two. Blinking a few times I look around to see what's going on.

I'm still alive, still in the same unharmed state I was yesterday besides the small bruising from when I got hit down in the Bloodbath... ironically, that probably saved my life. No tributes are near me, and my supplies are still in my backpack. Seems it was just rain that fell into my eyes.

Normally, I like the rain. I enjoy sitting by the window of my bedroom at the manor, just looking out at the storm for hours. It's got a strange kind of beauty to it, one I'm not sure how to describe. The thunder cares many children, but not me. Thunder is nice, it makes me feel strong to never fear it. Saying all his, you'd think I'd like being stuck here as a rainstorm is starting above me.

Well, you'd be wrong! I don't like this, I feel soggy! I must have slept through a lot of the rain already as my clothes feel damp, even my underwear. _Great_ , it's gonna be hard to dry out. My skin is gonna sting for sure.

"Sponsor an umbrella?" I ask out loud. "Maybe one with a nice leaf pattern on it, hm?"

I wait for a few moments. I get up, grab my supplies and move under a tree to wait some more. Alas, it would appear I'll have to make do without an umbrella. Ridiculous. Back home, I'd always have an umbrella if I wanted to go outside when it rained... and there I go, being spoiled again.

If I go around asking for something any time I encounter a small problem nobody is going to sponsor me. I'll look, frankly, pathetic.

Oh, wait, my outfit has a hood...

It's with an unladylike huff that I put up the hood and get to my feet. I can't stay here all day, out in the open and only a few miles from the Cornucopia. Surely the Careers will be back from their hunt. The fact my death portrait wasn't in the Anthem would've had them running back earlier than planned... they'll be looking for me in the area around the Cornucopia.

I can't help but swallow hard as I think back to my encounter with Marvel at the training center. I'd been trying to learn how to use throwing knives - with limited, success, I'll admit - and then he came over. Oh, sure, he did practise as well... but the things he said to me as he did, I'll never forget.

 _'I'm gonna spear you right in the heart, slow and rough. It'll be marvellous.'_

 _'See this knife? I might not throw it, I might just marvellously cut your throat with it.'_

 _'Ever wished you were crushed by a tree? No You'll wish for that over what my marvellous min has in store for you.'_

...For some reason he liked to make puns through the usage of his name. I know it's a common tactic Careers use every year - so said Blight when I overheard him talking to Wood - and chances are it's not meant as a personal threat to me, but does that matter? It's the Hunger Games, the threats are _real_. He _will_ do as he says if he catches me!

So then, my objective is to make sure they do not catch me. Getting rid of some of their most vital supplies was a good start, but they can still be sponsored stuff. For now, the best offence is defence and that means staying away. Thus, as the Cornucopia was that way... I'll go this way.

"So wet," I mutter as I trudge along in my chosen direction. It looks like it could become a real downpour. Maybe enough to cause trees to fall over. Maybe enough to cause a flood? Well then, I'll steer clear of the low ground.

With a shriek I slip on the wet ground once again, falling over in a heap. Laying on my front, I sulk. How pouty and bitter must I look right now?"

"Just a minor setback," I force myself to smile as I stand back up and keep moving.

I have food, weapons and water. For now, I'm set... but, it won't last me forever. I do not have to kill, just last the longest. So, find water and some kind of food. Squirrels are edible... yeah, I can hunt a squirrel. Ranger and his friends do that back home and they claim it's simple. How hard could it be to set a snare or just axe it?

I think Johanna is going to be feeling like quite the fool soon enough when she sees I can survive. Not just that, but survive without her being needed at all. The thought of proving her wrong makes my smile go from fake to feeling kind of real.

Though, the constant feeling of unease certainly doesn't make my smile last long. Everything around me looks absolutely massive. Of course, almost every Arena is huge and several miles across... but all these huge trees, and me being just shy of five feet tall, it's got me a little anxious.

I grip my hatchet tightly in my hand, fiddling with one of my braids with the my hand.

"Just listen to the thunder," I order myself, firm as can be.

So, I do. Marching through the forest, the distant rumbles start to help me relax. Enough that I start to pick up the pace to a light sprint. I run for a while, encountering no trouble, until I step into a puddle. I slip and free fall for a moment before I hit the ground. I scream, tumbling down a dirt hill to a lower part of the forest floor. I groan, landing in a heap for the third time since I woke up.

"Nuts."

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

It's a very small mercy of the Gamemakers to have give us hoods with our outfits. Sure, water is seeping into the jacket anyway and my pants too, but at least I know it could be worse. Having my hood up and staying beneath the canopy of the forest keeps a lot of the rainwater off my as I walk on my way to... wherever my destination is.

It's a complete downpour. The sunshine of yesterday is gone, nothing but a groaning rainstorm in its place. The thunder I can deal with, but the issue here is that the lower parts of the forest are starting to flood, somewhat. Small rivers and pools have begun to form, and I know to stay well away from them. I can swim, correct, but the water may become toxic or there might be leeches within it! ...Kinda getting sick thinking about leeches, actually. Maybe better to think of something else.

Perhaps the fact that I'm really on edge as I wait to hear a cannon. Quite literally, it could happen at any second of the day. Besides me, there are fourteen others. Normally, a cannon would have fired by now, so the slower pace is starting to make me restless. I just know the instant I hear a cannon boom I'm gonna scream. It'll be a test of my will to not do it, no matter the urge.

I guess the rainfall and the fact the Careers have lost supplies because of a certain lady - though I would prefer to remain nameless - is slowing the pace down. This may well become a war of attrition in the days ahead, a game of who can outlast the rest. War, terrible war... the same lines from the same detestable video they show every reaping. Of course, that part isn't quite wrong. It's true that war is a bad thing, especially as I'm now stuck in what is essentially a fifteen kid war.

It reminds me of a book I have back home, one of old military leaders from before Panem, before anything we know now. What was it that man said, Robert Lee? Ah, he said 'it is well that war is so terrible, otherwise we should grow too fond of it'. Well, I think a certain quartet of tributes may beg to differ.

I shriek as a branch falls, jumping away from it. It's only a few moments before I relax, seeing that it wouldn't have hit me anyway. I sigh, shaking my head.

"I can assure you all, I am not normally this jumpy," I say for what little good it'll do. If any at all.

Time is passing, the rain not stopping at all. How far will the water rise if it doesn't stop? I'd normally expect the ground to absorb some of it and the rest to just stay down in the lower parts of the forest, but this isn't a normal forest. The Arena doesn't follow the same rules as the outside world does. Why, last year in that abandoned city there was a waterfall coming from a skyscraper... it flowed upwards. See? It's not normal in here.

Well, if it does rise I could climb a tree at least. A duel win for I'd be out of the water's range and feel a bit less small too.

I huff a little as I march my way up a hill,g ripping trees and gnarled roots that jut from the ground as a way to support myself. I pant a little at the job, soon drinking some of my water. If it runs out, I'm fucked.

How unladylike, swearing like that. I must be losing it sooner than I thought. At least the flavour of the dried beef I start to snack on distracts me from being too self-critical. Hmm... needs more salt, perhaps a touch of mustard and a nice glass of plum juice to go with it.

I miss the manor.

Wait... wait a second...

Ohhhh... oh dear.

Pocketing my water bottle I crouch down at the object I've spotted. Nothing deadly, but nothing that could possible be natural to this forest either. After all, how many forests have a ring with a copper butterfly on it laying around? Not bad craftsmanship on this thing. Seems pretty old too... a family heirloom, perhaps?

Wait, this must be a token from one of the other Tributes. _Somebody's been here_! But who? That's the question I'm unable to answer. I never saw what the other Tributes had for tokens, not even Wood. Is this his? Or somebody else? I don't believe the Careers are here yet, but even when taking them away there are plenty of other tributes who could easily kill me. That strong boy from Ten - I curse myself for forgetting his name - could probably beat me to death with his bare hands if he really wanted to. He gave off the impression of toughness in his interview...

If I run then I'll be seen as a coward. If I go on, I'm really pushing my luck. But, Johanna would assume me to flee and show her she's right. Not quite what I am all about, making myself fit her pre-decided mould she assumed of me. I grip my hatchet, taking a breath in and then another one out.

I start to match onwards again, batting aside branches here and there. The trees are getting pretty thick over in this part of the forest. At least it's high-ground, so the water's not a hazard yet.

I don't even have to kill anybody really, just scare them off a bit. Capitol citizens like that stuff too and if the pace of the Games is indeed slow, then they'll be interested in any action, no matter how non-lethal.

If nothing else, falling on my face again might fit me into the 'narrative' as comic relief. Charming...

* * *

 **(Some time passes...)**

* * *

It may be pointless to do it, but I brush off some of the water that's accumulated on my jacket. A moment of relief passes before more swiftly gathers. Yep, pointless. I should have grabbed a bowl from the Cornucopia. That way I could catch the rainwater, as I think it's safe to drink. If it was toxic, everybody would be feeling it.

I'm not thirsty right now, though. Mainly, I'm feeling really nervous. I found some footprints a few minutes ago, and it's led me to where I am now - a particularly muddy area of the forest, the squelching beneath my shoes ever so horrid. But if mud is the biggest issue I have in the Hunger Games then I really don't have it that bad, do I?

"Where are you..." I mutter, looking around. Nothing but rain, mud and trees as far as I can see.

I get no response, of course. Either they're hiding, or waiting to jump out at me. My heart pounds hard and now I honestly wish I'd just turned and gone the other way. Though, they may be long gone by now. The footprints may have been old - I have no idea how to tell if they're recent - and the rain has started to remove the trail already. Perhaps nothing shall happen.

I hear somebody cry out, a splay following a moment later. A person, and from the sounds of it a female.

They're close, not even fifteen meters away I would guess. Just beyond that clump of trees. I hold my hatchet rightly and creep my way over. Of course, stealth is impossible with the squelching every footstep I take causes to happen. So, I'm not surprised when the girl hears me and tries to scramble up. I finally spot her a few feet away, falling over into the mud. I can relate to that...

Reddish hair, a plum red outfit and her face a little pointed... I believe this is the girl from District 5. She looks up at me, her face paling.

"Don't kill me!" she pleads, raising up her hands. "I'm unarmed, not a threat to you. I've not got anything except a bottle of water and two pieces of bread!"

She's shaking violently. Not from cold, but fear. My stomach tightens as I observe this scared girl at my feet. If I am to go home to the manor and my future of being the next Mayor... she has to die, one way or the other. It's not fun, but it's a fact.

"What's your name?" I ask her. It feels worse, not even knowing her name.

"Cinder Wilding." She chokes out, her iris shrinking as she looks at my hatchet.

"...Is this yours?" I ask her, showing her the butterfly ring. I see her terrified eyes lighten up, which makes me feel worse.

"Yes!" she squeaks. "I... I thought I'd lost it."

Her gaze returns to my hatchet and she's soon shaking again. It's time to make my choice... though, calling this a choice implies difficulty. It's not remotely hard to decide what I'm going to do here.

I reach down and help Cinder up to her feet. She sways a little, stunned. I guess it's unusual for a tribute to show mercy, but why should a citizen die if nobody has to? Is that not the point of a leader, to keep the citizens safe? I guess not in the case of President Snow, but in the Districts this is indeed the case.

I don't need to kill, just live longest.

I press the ring into Cinder's hand, letting her take hold of it.

"I think we'll stand more chance of being alive by sundown if we work together," I tell her. "This rainstorm is going to make the forest harder to navigate alone."

She looks confused, looking at me intensely as she pockets the ring. I'm being scrutinized by that fox-like gaze of hers. I think she's younger than me, so it feels all the more awkward that not only am I being stared at but she's also got at least four inches on me, maybe more. I try to quell the urge to stand on the tips of my toes.

"Not to be ungrateful, but... why?" she asks me, puzzled. "You've never spoken to me before, why spare me?"

She takes a step back, her face fearful once again.

"Not that I mind!" she adds, hastily.

"...We're all citizens of Panem right? Whatever our District, we're all of the same soil," is what I tell her, standing up straight. "I'm the Mayor's daughter back in Seven. A bit unbecoming of a future mayor to start killing citizens, is it not?"

"...That makes sense," Cinder says, glancing around easily. "Hey, uh, any ideas where we're gonna go? I ran from the Cornucopia and I've been running ever since."

"No sleep?" I ask her.

"How can we sleep when people are out there trying to kill us?" she says, matter-of-factly. "I can keep going like this, for now."

I'm getting uneasy, just standing here in the rain and the mud. Anybody could find us at any time, and if not a person then maybe a Mutt. It's now day two, so Mutts are now a real possibility. Nuts...

"Come on," I say, walking forth. "Let's go."

"Where?" Cinder asks.

"Not here. A moving target is harder to hit," I tell her. I flinch from the sounds the mud makes. "Urrgghh, so nasty..."

"Between mud and death, I'd pick mud," Cinder says as she walks slowly beside me. "At least you can clean mud off."

What an eloquent way to put it, I think. We move on as silent as the mud allows, scrambling out onto harder ground as soon as we can, and so we set off. I'm not sure where, but anywhere's better than here except maybe the Cornucopia. Far too dangerous to bother going back unless I become suicidal.

Not impossible. It happens every two or three years to some poor child.

"Seen anything interest around this place?" I ask her after maybe ten minutes.

"I saw the Boy from Ten looking for shelter from the rain a few hours ago," she tells me. I tense, knowing that boy is one of the strongest, and eldest, of us Tributes. "I kept away from him. He's strong, I'm not... I don't want to hurt anybody."

"Neither do I. Let's hope we shan't have to. Some years haven't had a final battle," I say as we step on a log and carefully cross over the foul water below. "Was Ten armed? And, uh, do you remember his name?"

"I think it might be Ramsey, maybe?" she says, though I can tell she's not certain. Until further notice, I hereby dub the Boy from Ten as 'Ramsey'. "He didn't have a knife or a sword or anything, but... he did have a length of rope. Thick rope."

"What's he gonna do with that?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, he could tie people up but without a knife..."

I trail off as Cinder mimes hanging herself. I shudder, my face suddenly losing a lot of colour and heat. How pale I must look. Maybe my freckles lost colour too, as the thought of that is... is... no, I shan't think about it. Ramsey could lose the rope. In fact, I might not even see him at all.

We don't speak for a while after that.

* * *

 **(Time passes...)**

* * *

It's surely the middle of the afternoon by now and the rain is showing no signs of stopping. In fact, I think it's raining even harder than it was before. At least I'm well fed and have water. I offered Cinder some, but she didn't accept it. She doesn't trust me... understandable.

I'm not sure why I just spared her so quickly. It would've gotten me more sponsors if I did... that... but what kind of a leader kills their citizens, or citizens of others? Snow, that's who and I am not like him. I try to justify it to myself as gaining an ally, a number, somebody to help me for a while... but really, I'm squeamish over killing. It's _wrong_. I know, high and mighty of me to say that when I'd probably do it to save my own life like anybody else, but... I just feel I have standards, an **expectation** even, to live up to.

Or maybe it's because I'm so frightened of blood. I'm never gonna forget what I saw in the aftermath of the Bloodbath until the day I die. Of course, that day could even be today for all I know.

I swallow hard at the thought.

"Stop," Cinder puts an arm in front of me, making me cease. "This looks bad."

Sure does. Looks like this might have originally been the lower ground of the forest - perhaps full of flowers and grass, or at least terrain that could be walked through - but not so much anymore. It's been flooded and not all that's left is a large, still lake. The rain send many ripples across its surface. I don't trust my odds of wading through it. Who knows what may lurk within?

I spot a log a distance away... it's got eyes.

Alligators.

I guess I know what's lurking in there now. Certainly no reason to go through the water.

"We should just turn back," I say to Cinder. "Look, over there? Alligator."

"Actually, I think you'll find that's a crocodile," Cinder correct me, peering closer. "You can tell by the pointier snout and how its teeth are still visible when the jaw is closed."

"Interesting. I never knew that," I take a step back from the edge. "We should get out of here. If this place floods higher then the crocodiles are going to start having more space to move around. They'd eat us."

My voice is a soft whisper, quiet so as to not attract the beasts, but Cinder gets the message and slowly nods. There'll be another path to take.

We start to make our way around the edge of the flooded lake, a few meters from the bank just to be safe.

"...What's it like in Five?" I ask after a while.

"Why do you want to know?" Cinder asks me.

"Better to talk of that than... this," I gesture my hand around the area.

"I suppose you're right," she agrees, huddling herself a little. "Well, it's bright. Our District is statistically the third most well off. Lots of bright lights and Peacekeepers always moving in bulk. I guess with how we make the power that keeps the Capitol shining they make sure things are running smoothly and that we've got enough money to stay afloat. It's not a bad life back there, really. My family are lovely; my parents, sisters, brother... oh, I miss them dearly. I miss sitting down to family dinners. I miss how my sisters would ask me about... um..."

She coughs, suddenly awkward.

"Well anyway, District Five is a good place to live," she says quickly. "I love going to the library and just reading the day away. You can learn so much from books and watching the people around you."

"Sounds like a nice life," I say, a little throbbing in my chest. Heartache, though more the emotional kind than the lethal kind, thankfully... not that it's a nice feeling either way.

"What's District Seven like?" she asks me.

"...Lots of trees," I say, softly. "Trees all around. Kind of like here, but... not. I live in a manor... I'm indoors a lot, just sitting. Reading. Not doing enough with my time, really. I'm alone a lot."

"Any family?" Cinder inquires.

"Yeah, just my dad," I reply, thinking of the man who raised me. "Sometimes not even him. We're a bit distant."

"Hmm... I see. Your mother? Siblings?" Cinder seems more open to the topic now. It's nice, but now I'm starting to see why tributes don't often talk about this kind of thing. Family is complex and makes the heart feel hurt.

"Neither," I say, shaking my head. "Careful, don't trip on the log. I have Ranger, my boyfriend, but uh... I don't want to distract myself. You have anybody?"

"Ummmmm..." she looks as red as her hair. "...Sometimes..."

"You did seem to be close with the Boy from Nine before..." I wince, trailing off. I can't help but have an image of his corpse, slumped on the ground, flash into my mind. "Sorry."

"It's ok," she says, quietly. "Miller was really nice, but... I'm young. If I win after killing nobody and go home... well, they call me foxy for a reason. _Anyway_ , rain, lot's of it! How we gonna get dry?"

I don't comment on the rapid change of topic. I think on her point, as being this soaked for over a week, maybe two weeks... that'd be rough. On cold nights, it may lead to hypothermia which, as with suicide, is not unheard of in the Games. One year had most tributes die from the cold - fifteen of them if I recall correctly, the poor kids - and after that there was always a means of making fire added. That, and the Head Gamemaker was killed for it. It wouldn't do to make the Games 'boring' I guess...

"Unless we want to risk starting a fire then we won't be able to," I tell her, pouting. "Plus, with the rainfall it might be hard to even keep a fire going at all."

"Mmm, true," she sighs, pulling her hood further over her head.

Again, we're silent. Not much to say. I'm more focused on keeping my hatchet held tightly and keeping an eye on the water. I swear it's raised a few inches already. This is gonna be dangerous soon. I think we've moved to lower ground without meaning to, so now I'm looking for a hill or a slope. Anything to get higher up before this becomes deadly.

Ah, there we go. Just over there lays a steep hill leading up to the light outside the thickness of the canopy above us. Just beyond... oh come on! Really?

Two crocodiles lay on the ground. They might be sleeping, but I'm not certain. Even if they are, surely they'd heard us run by and start gnawing out bodies to a pulp, assuming they can't swallow us whole. I guess Cinder may know if they can or not... irrelevant details, how do we get past them? Going back wastes time, and there might be more of these creatures starting to leave the water.

"Any plan?" Cinder asks me quietly.

"Nothing yet," I whisper. "Your mentor likely to sponsor you some crocodile repellent?"

"Doubtful. How about yours?" she asks, hopeful.

"Johanna said she's not gonna bother helping me," I say, my tone perhaps a touch snooty. "So be it, I shan't need her half-rate help anyway. Though, what I do need is an idea... running by them is out, and attacking them would be foolish."

"I'm not going near them," Cinder says, firm. "I'm fast, but those things are actually quite fast too. Plus, I have no weapons."

"Think a hatchet would be enough?" I tense, hoping the answer is no so I shan't have to get near the crocodiles.

"Not even close," Cinder shakes her head. "We'll need to get around them."

"But how? There's no way around them except going in the water, a possible death sentence in itself," I groan, gripping my braids. "Stupid hungry beasts... wait, hungry..."

I reach into my bag and grab out a pack of dried meat. Perhaps not the best meat in Panem, but maybe these creatures will be interested anyway. Hopefully enough to go after it so we can have time to run past before they hunger for our guts.

"Get ready to run," I tell Cinder.

"Ready anytime," she says.

I don't hesitate for more than a few seconds. I throw the meat to the water and, like flies to fine honey, the crocodiles are swiftly after it. They ravenously tear it apart and I think they're devouring the packaging too. I don't spare much attention to them though, not when I'm much more focused on sprinting past the area they were guarding. Through here and up the steep slope, and then we're out of range of the flood for now.

I cry out, slipping on the wet ground. I moan, hitting the ground with a thud. Nuts! I try to scramble up so I can keep running but I stumble again. The crocodiles must be near by now. No!

"Come on, keep going!" Cinder runs back, yanking me up to my feet and pulling me along.

The crocodiles turn to snarl at us but we're already near the top of the slope by then. Mercifully we don't slip down or lose our footing at any point. Adrenaline gets us to the top and keeps us running on through an open grassy field.

We don't dare stop until we're at the other side of the field. Cinder slumps down on her butt gasping while I kneel over and wheeze deeply. I chug down a lot of what's in my bottle and I hold the bottle out for Cinder. She shakes her head, taking out her own water bottle to drink from. It's another stretch of time before either of us speak a word.

"Thank you," I say, pulling Cinder into a hug.

"Eep!" she squeals a bit, pulling out of my grasp. "You're welcome, just a thank you shall suffice. Um... huh..."

"What?" I ask. She's looking at me funny... am I bleeding?!

"You know, I never got your name," she says, realisation in her eyes. "We've worked together for a few hours, and I helped you back there... I don't even know your name."

"Nettle Bonsai," I say to her, sitting up straight. "I'm a bit of a 'spoiled sapling' according to some at home."

 _And the first girl in history to become both a Victor and a Mayor_ , is what I know better than to say out loud to her. Because if I become those things, it means only one thing for Cinder.

Certain death.

"Well, nice to know your name Nettle," she says, drawing up her knees. Her eyes travel down to look at my hatchet.

"I'm not gonna kill you," I tell her.

"I believe that more than I did earlier," she says. That's progress if ever I've heard it. "It's just..."

"Just what?" I ask, uncertain as to what she's getting at.

"...This is a bad idea for us both," Cinder says. "We're getting attached. That's killed so many tributes before us. We know each other's names, our home lives to a small degree, you spared me and I saved you back there... and..."

"And?" I gently press her to continue. "Is this bad?"

"It's nice, but dangerous," Cinder says, haunted. "If we get attached, it'll create issues later if we... now I'm not ungrateful, I'm thankful but it's just... I mean, even Sparky and I didn't risk getting too close when he was alive so..."

"You think we should split?" I say. It's not a question. Cinder's afraid of the moral and emotional quandaries that always pop up when tributes get close. It happens every few years, sometimes more than that. "It's dangerous if you're out there all alone."

"It's dangerous if we're together as well," she says. She's right... "Even the Careers in their big pack are not safe, and they always split every year, fighting viciously when the tension is too high."

I know she's right. But it still leaves me a little unhappy I'll be alone all over again. Even for just a few hours, company was pretty nice to have. Cinder's great to talk to, a girl matching my own interests in the intelligent things of life. But, I guess logic overrides emotion and the fact is... only one of us can live, and it just hurts even worse if one is to get close to others. Even the Careers can suffer the effects of this sometimes.

"In that case, best of luck to you Cinder," I tell her. "Think you'll make it?"

"I can try," she says. "However hopeless things are, we have to try. Otherwise we're only ensuring our deaths. Best of luck to you as well Nettle... thanks for giving me back my token, by the way. It's a family heirloom."

"Not a problem," I say to her, lightly smiling. "I'd not want to lose mine either."

I rummage in my pocket and show her a golden necklace, one with a small golden tree attached to it that is studded with emeralds.

"Family heirloom, just like yours," I tell her.

"It's beautiful," she whispers. "Why not wear it?"

"...People might grab it and, uh, try to choke me," I say, looking to the side.

Silence ensues. I cough awkwardly. Cinder scratches her side, also awkward.

"Well... farewell," she says, getting up to her feet.

She's young, and heading off unarmed. At least I, spoiled as I am, have supplies... she's really got nothing. Hmmm... you know, being a leader can come down to leading by example, to show people what the right thing to do is. The path best taken. I might never see District Five, except perhaps on my Tour that I will hopefully be alive for, but treating its citizens well can't hurt. Might even make my own citizens like me more, perhaps earn me a sponsor.

"Wait," I say, making Cinder pause. "It's dangerous to go alone. Take this."

I take out a dagger that I'd grabbed from the Cornucopia and pass it to her. She grips it tightly, uneasy but grateful.

"Thank you Nettle," she says, managing a smile. "I just... hope I won't need to use it on a person."

"I hope the same about this hatchet," I agree quietly.

With that, Cinder leaves. She goes from a walk to a jog and then to a sprint, vanishing into the trees. Not even half a minute goes by before she is completely out of sight. Once more, I'm alone. But, I'm still alive and I'm lacking any serious injuries.

Though, fourteen others still breath and many of them are strong. And... I think all but two of them are bigger than me. I feel so _small_ , with how everybody but the two twelve year olds is bigger than me! Though, compared to the fates of those who died yesterday is that really a reason for me to whine? No.

Cinder went that way over there, so I'll go this way. Another thick area of the forest with many trees and bushes looming ahead. It towers over me just like the Capitol did. But at least I'll have somewhere to hide rather than being out in the open. Plus, I'll be out of the rain. This downpour seems endless, it's still going strong. I wonder how long they're gonna let it go on for. I can swim, but if the entire place floods... well, there are those crocodiles, and I'm no Annie Cresta in the water.

"Ok, next goal, find a cave," I tell myself, walking deeper into the forest.

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

The sun is setting now. I can't _see_ it beyond the thick rainclouds, but it's getting darker. It certainly won't be much longer until nightfall arrives and with it the Anthem... and the cold, lots of cold. I'm soaked and no doubt a few other tributes are as well. Soaked from rain and lacking any warmth... we'd be lucky to not get hypothermia or something. The Careers, of course, can light a fire and not need to worry about a thing. Nobody would hunt them down at night in one go.

Well, nobody but the bravest of boys and girls. Or perhaps the most foolish.

As for me, I'm not sure I can even start a fire. But even if I can, could I risk it? It'd be a beacon to get people flooding towards me, if not to kill them out of desperation for warmth. It'd be a fight either way in the end. But it's so tempting right now, so tempting. I miss home, being able to lay by the fire in an armchair, curled up with a thick blanket and a good book.

I shake my head. I'll just make myself distracted and pouty if I think on it too hard.

I came to a river a while ago, one flooded past its usual depth, and I've been following along it for a while, a safe distant from the water. It must be flowing to the lake near the Cornucopia, so by walking against the current I'm going away from the horn of plenty and, in doing so, the Careers' main camp.

I'm so tired, but I'm forcing myself to keep going. Sleeping in the open, or out in the rain would both be near suicide. I need shelter, badly. I saw a cave, but it was already flooded. I need one at higher ground, if one exists. That or somebody could sponsor me a nice, warm log cabin. Perhaps with a television as well. Nuts, I think I'm missing the new Fiona and Lawrence episode right now.

"So cold..." my teeth chatter a little and I huddle myself a bit. What I'd give for some lovely sunshine...

Twigs crack and branches snap. I freeze for a moment, before I run behind a thick tree and duck down. I pray to the Forest God, I beg him... don't let whoever this is see me! Please, please, please...

A few moments pass before I hear somebody walking to the shore and panting a little. A few moments pass before I hear them uncap a bottle, I think, and scoop some water. they better hope they have iodine, or an immunity to potentially dirty water.

"So cold," says the person. A male, and thankfully it's not Marvel, Peeta or Cato. Based on the sound... I think it's somebody older than the small boy from Four.

I hear the sound of ruffling and then a package opening. I remain silent as the boy eats. Crouching low, I dare to peak out to have a quick glimpse of who it is. How many of the original twelve boys are still alive? Besides Marvel, Peeta and Cato... I think it's the boys from Three, Four, Ten... oh, and Wood. But this isn't Wood, I know that much.

It's not easy to see at first due to the darkness setting in, but I can glimpse the mustard yellow colour of his jacket all the same. It's the boy from Three. His name... come on... Weld? It was something like that.

I curse myself for not paying enough attention to the other interviews. They weren't even three days ago! The Careers and the Twelve's made themselves unforgettable, but not this boy. I feel a little shame for not remembering most of the others.

"This is bad," he mutters. His voice trembles from the cold. "I had a great plan. Dig up the mines and rearm them... but fuck, somebody's already done it! All of the mines, gone!"

He's silent. ..Wait, the mines are gone? Rearmed!? Is... is that even possible?

"It was her..." he continues to himself. He kicks the dirt and I flinch. The hatred from his voice is so vicious, so alarming. "Gadget... she must have eavesdropped on me somehow. I told her nothing, so how..."

He seethes, taking a few deep breathes. Wait, Gadget... that's his District Partner, right? Yeah, the younger, tall girl who cried a lot.

Tall.

...She must have been one of those two I saw yesterday right as I left the Cornucopia! She and the other Tribute with her must have been going for the mines!

"Kill Gadget painfully, get the mines," the boy continues, his tone steely. "Then blow this whole place to bits."

I don't like that voice he's speaking in... so lacking in warmth or any emotion but hatred. He's younger than me, and it's concerning how a young boy can speak so maliciously. Though, the Games do effect some differently than others. Maybe he's already changing.

Weld doesn't speak anymore, just standing there. I guess he's deep in thought, or maybe like me he's feeling lost on what to do, really. Easy to say he wants to kill Gadget but she could be anywhere. All of the others could be anywhere.

Again, I freeze as I hear the sound of somebody running. Somebody coming right towards us.

Nuts!

I cower where I am, hardly daring to breath. I hear Weld's scream over rainstorm and the yell of another boy, one certainly older and stronger. I don't know why, but I decide to peer out to see what's going on. Who is winning? Who is the other Tribute? How much therapy will I need after this?

I put a hand to my mouth, trying not to vomit. My eyes widen, and I feel as though my iris' shrink at what I am seeing. Weld is on his knees, screaming and choking. The other, larger boy - Ramsey from Ten - stands behind him. He's silent, but certainly not calm by how he's shaking.

His rope is tightly around Weld's neck, making the younger boy turn a horrific blue colour as he chokes and screams for oxygen. I duck away fast, out of sight and wishing I'd not looked. Why did I look!?

My whole body is shaking non-stop as the chokes and cries go on, getting quieter and more guttural over time. This feels worse than the Bloodbath. Those deaths were, while horrible, at least quick... this one is taking time, and Weld knows what is happening. Nuts, this poor boy...

I feel like such a coward, I should help him! But one thought of the rope around his neck and how Ramsay is simply much stronger and bigger than me has me shrinking back down. It'd be suicide to let him see me.

The chokes stop and I hear a thud. Ramsay lets out a deep, exhausted sigh. Certainly not a shout of triumph. My heart pounds hard as he leans himself against the other side of the tree.

 _He's not even a meter away from me_.

I flinch as the cannon fires, the massive boom audible for miles. A step closer to home... but at what a price. I feel faint.

"Sorry partner," I hear Ramsey say. "Just business, and I had no other weapons to do it."

Ramsay takes a few deep breathes before he steps away. I hear him rummaging... I assume he's checking for what Weld's got on him before the Hovercraft takes the body.

"Hmmm, this'll work," I hear him say.

A swish, and then a thud against the other side of the tree. I gulp, thankful the rainstorm is covering the sounds of my breathing.

"Rest well," he says. "Ok Cato, you son of a bitch, _where are you_?"

Ramsay leaves downstream, a little hunched over and depressed by the looks of it. I can see that he holds the rope that killed Weld in one hand. In the other, he's got a big hand-axe. One much better than the hatchet I've got. I guess what's what he got from Weld.

I stay here, silent and close to screaming for several minutes before I rise. I should go now, fast, before the Hovercraft crew start getting annoyed. But, maybe Ramsay missed something?

Leaving my hiding spot I kneel down besides Weld's corpse. His face is an unnatural pal blue... so nasty... and his horrified eyes stare blankly up at nothing. As bloodless as the murder was, it was horrible Traumatising! So uncouth...

I shake my head, looking through his pockets quickly. Ramsay's already emptied out his bag, it seems, but maybe he overlooked something?

He did. In one pocket I find a small container of bruise cream. After the nasty shove I got in the Bloodbath, it's just what I need. Mine now. I also find a knife. Good, that'll replace the one I gave to Cinder. The better I am armed, the harder I am to kill.

In the other pocket though... huh, what's this? Looks like a photograph. Hmm... a man, woman and a... boy. This must be a family photograph, taken a few years ago it seems. Weld seems happy, a contrast to how he was acting both here and in the Training Centre at times. It must be his token.

If I put it back then it'd probably just get put into the Tribute Museum. I heard about that from Seven's Escort, Mascara. No, a family photo should be with family, I believe.

I pocket it. If I get out of here, I'll return it to Weld's family on the Victory Tour.

For now, I better run. I'm shivering worse now, with how it's getting darker and raining harder. Shelter, now!

On I go, running the opposite direction that Ramsay went. I hear the Hovercraft descending behind me. No doubt all kinds of wonderful supplies are on board, the crew enjoying them and being in indifferent to our suffering.

You know what would be nice? If some bold tribute climbed up that gathering claw and hijacked the Hovercraft!

* * *

 **(Some time goes by...)**

* * *

I lay on my side by the fire, breathing wearily. I couldn't resist the temptation any longer and I've started a fire. Took an hour to get any sparks on it, but... I did it. It's so warm and wonderful, exactly what I needed most. I'm under an outcropping part of a cliff, the rocky overlook above me keeping me from getting soaked by the rain and hiding some of the smoke too.

It's hard to think properly with how exhausted I am. Harder still with the way Weld died, and how I heard all of it. The part I was stupid enough to watch repeats in my mind. It makes me want to cry.

That's ten dead now. Thirteen others left to go... aargh! This is insane! Crazy! Nonsense! How am I supposed to survive and not lose my damn mind in the process?! ...I just don't know.

Not just that, but not a single Sponsor yet either. Nor even a simple note of encouragement. I guess Johanna really meant it.

Well _fine_ , screw her!

I shiver, huddling up when lighting flashes across the stormy sky. It hits a tree many miles away... not danger, yet. The lack of a cannon shows it was a danger to nobody else, either.

But speaking of danger... Weld unknowingly confirmed it for me. Gadget's rearmed the land mines around the pedestals. I'd not think it would be possible, but my fault for assuming. What's she going to do with them? Make a mine field, use them as hand grenades? A painless way to kill herself if she's faced with certain death by worse means later on? I don't know her at all, so I've got no idea.

And, the tribute who was with her. How do they factor into all of this? Did they give her the idea? ...So many questions buzz through my mind, which sucks as I really want to sleep.

I lay by the warm fire, dozing a bit as I listen to the rainfall. I'm so sleepy that even the lighting doesn't make me jump anymore. I just ignore it.

But, I can't ignore the Anthem. Wearily I open my eyes, looking out at the stormy, night sky beyond the overlook above me. That song... I tell you, I could probably write a better one. Maybe something with piano in it.

The Capitol Seal is displayed for a few moments before Weld's face is shown up in the sky. Again, his painful death flashes through my mind. That'll fuel a few weeks of nightmares, no doubt. Only a few moments pass by before his face disappears and the Anthem comes to a close for the night.

I stare up at the sky for a while, just... staring. Powerful tributes, slow murder, Mutts, flooding, rearmed land mines. It's all so much to deal with.

I can't help but sob a little bit as I settle down to sleep by the fire. I tell myself to be a big girl tomorrow. I make myself promise that, tomorrow, I'll be a braver person than I've been so far.

The thing is, I'm not so sure I can really keep that promise to myself. But it's like Cinder said, we have to at least try. If we don't try to overcome the problems we face, then do we really have any right to complain?

I'd say not.

* * *

 **END OF DAY 2...**

* * *

 **REMAINING TRIBUTES**

Marvel (District 1 Male)

Glimmer (District 1 Female)

Cato (District 2 Male)

Clove (District 2 Female)

Gadget (District 3 Female)

Urchin (District 4 Male)

Cinder (District 5 Female)

Wood (District 7 Male)

Nettle (District 7 Female)

Lacey (District 8 Female)

Rammy (District 10 Male)

Rue (District 11 Female)

Peeta (District 12 Male)

Katniss (District 12 Female)

* * *

 **THE FALLEN**

15th- **Weldar (District 3 Female)** \- Asphyxiated with a rope, by Rammy.

16th- **Jason (District 6 Male)** – Slashed several times in the stomach with a scythe, by Cato.

17th- **Sparky (District 5 Male)** – Speared in the gut with a spear and then stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Wood.

18th- **Sickle (District 9 Female)** – Stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Glimmer.

19th- **Thresh (District 11 Male)** – Disembowelled with a machete, by Cato.

20th- **Marina (District 4 Female)** \- Struck in the neck with an axe by Weldar.

21st- **Miller (District 9 Female)** – Knife thrown into back, by Clove.

22nd- **Tamora (District 6 Female)** – Stabbed repeatedly in the gut, by Glimmer.

23rd- **Sable (District 10 Female)** – Stuck in the skull with an axe, by Cato.

24th- **Callico (District 8 Male)** – Stabbed with a kukri, by Marvel.

* * *

 **TRIBUTE NOTES**

 **Weldar:** A timeline of lesser prominence for him this time, though even in his small appearance he remains an interesting character to write for with his vast amount of negative emotions. Imagine what his own timeline must be like, huh? Here though, his survival was only limited. After all, he lost all access to the landmines as Gadget appears to have beaten him to the idea this time and so his biggest trump card was removed, along with him having no allies / servants. Quite the grisly death he received from Rammy, whom now has Weldar's axe too... this is why talking too loudly can be a bad move! With one tribute using his land mine idea and one using his axe, perhaps he really did have an impact even in death? Impact that remains to be fully seen...


	3. Day 3: Rising Tension, Rising Tide

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

 **Note:** With Bloodline Betrayal finished, and Gadget able to relax for a while, the time has come for a return to this story! Plenty left to come in this one, hopefully most of it good, so let's get on with things. You know what people say about a familiar place looking so foreign at night... but now, let's see how different the forest of the 74th Games looks when it's been vastly flooded. How will Nettle cope? For that matter, a question to you all, how would you deal with a very flooded Arena if you were in the Hunger Games?

* * *

Waking up to a cold morning I sit up quickly, looking all around. The fire has gone out and I'm freezing, but that's hardly my biggest issue right now. I can only stare around at the forest that stretches out for miles.

Or rather, what used to be a forest before all of the insane amounts of rainfall. I've seen forest floods before now back in Seven - from a safe distance, naturally - and none of it quite compares to this. It certainly would never have happened so fast either.

"What on Earth?" I ask out loud, sitting myself up straighter. "This... is a problem."

And how could it not be? This is no forest, it's now a vast swampland. The water hasn't reached me, thankfully, but it's a close thing. The shoreline, I suppose it would be called, has come to a stop around ten meters from my current position. The downpour is _still_ ongoing and I can't see any signs of it stopping soon. Then again, this is artificial weather so perhaps I am wrong? I don't like being wrong.

Anyway, the point is that this is giving me a very limited choice of directions I can go to. I suppose nothing is really stopping me from wading through the water and swimming somewhere else, but I do not trust this swamp at all. Even though I have the luxury of knowing how to swim, I saw plenty of crocodiles yesterday. There could be more lurking beneath the water. If not, then there could be leeches, aggressive fish, nasty frogs... I gag thinking about it all, holding my backpack of supplies closer to myself.

"Ok, not exactly favourable weather for a swim," I decide as I stand up, backing away from the water until my back is against the cliff, the rocky overlook hanging right over me. "I miss the pool."

Ah, the backyard pool. A wonderful place to spend a summer's day relaxing. A two piece bikini, a nice floaty, a perfect guy... I shake my head, slapping myself. It's pampering like that which have me being the person I am and thus why Johanna refused to bother with me. Suddenly, I miss the pool a lot less.

Keeping my distance away from the edge of the water I walk around the side of the cliff. Thankfully, the water hasn't come up anywhere near as close on this side so it's easy to stay out of range of any crocodiles that may or may not be there. Sure enough, it's just a matter of walking and baring the rain for a bit until I find myself at the top of the cliff and able to see for miles.

"Dang. This is... yikes." I frown as I stare out at all of the swampland.

Isn't it amazing how a large flood can make huge trees suddenly seem much smaller? Of course, to me they are still huge but... less so, I suppose. As far as I can see, it's an ocean of swamp water. Just a large, dirty mass of deep water - maybe as much as quadruple my height in some places? - and, while plenty of land is still above the water, it's certainly nowhere as much as it was yesterday or the day before.

As I said, I can see for miles, but I cannot actually see any of the other tributes or any noticeable action going on. Perhaps for the best, honestly. But I can't just be doing nothing. If I become boring in the eyes of the Capitol, it will be a death sentence.

I can only shake my head a bit. Being executed for being boring, why is that even a rule in this world of ours?

Some time passes this way, with me just staring out at the vast swamp, sometimes looking up at the incredibly thick, grey rain clouds that cover the sky. I need shelter, very soon. This hood is not going to be offering me very much comfort by itself.

I squeal as thunder booms throughout the sky. I breath deeply, shaking a bit. I don't mind thunder much, but being taken by surprise like that... not fun. No, not at all. It takes a few moments for my breathing to return to normal. Ok then, where to go next...

"That way seems to have more water, but that might means fewer tributes," I say to myself, tapping my chin. "On the other hand that way has a lot more ground so it'd be easier to stay out of the water and find somewhere to rest... the Careers could be over there, though."

Another boom of thunder fills the Arena, but I don't scream because of that. Rather, the lightning that struck a tree very near the cliff I am on is what has me shrieking shrilly. With me stalling to decide, that cannot have been a coincidence. It's a message from the Gamemakers, and I know what they're saying.

 **Get moving, now**.

I take the hint quickly, making a snap decision to go for the area with more ground. At least that way I might not fall into the water quite as easily. I'm freezing enough without that. I jog along quickly, my feet making wet sounding echoes every time I take a step forth. I stumble, but I stay standing.

I can't shake the feeling that if I stumble I could be struck with a lightning bolt. The very thought has me feeling cold from more than the weather and running faster. Soon the cliff and my campsite from last night has been left far behind and I'm running into a big thicket of trees, leaving the shoreline behind me.

It's tiring, running without a break, but I better get used to it. At least I'm not being chased by anything, or anybody. The lighting has me scared that if I slow down the Gamemakers won't hold back. Maybe they intend to have me run until I physically cannot do so anymore?

As I run through the trees, jumping over logs and getting my pants splatted in mud, I get the feeing this shan't take long. I'm so out of shape. So tiny. I can't help starting to shiver, scream and wheeze. The paranoia is impossible to ignore.

The deep water could have crocodiles within.

The trees may fall on me.

The Careers, or any other tributes, could be very nearby.

I grip my hatchet so tightly that my knuckles turn a ghostly white. The hatchet shakes; it's impossible for me to hold it still when I feel like this. Sick, terrified, every abd emotion.

I'm about to ask Johanna to please send me something, anything, that may help but I slap a hand over my mouth. No! I won't give her the satisfaction, I shan't!

As I soon stumble my way into a wet grove, all worn out, I think back to home and what I've sometimes overheard the lumberjacks saying. What is it that they do to relief stress again? That's right, they hit trees.

I have an axe, and no shortage of trees to hit. Well then, let it never be said I am not willing to partake in a challenge. One hit, two hits, three hits, more hit than I care to count. I just keep on swinging. I'm worn out already, but it's starting to help me calm down from my fright.

Soon enough I let the axe drop and let myself drop to my knees, wheezing. I practically tear a water bottle from my backpack and gulp it all down in moments. So, so good. Could do with a bit of citrus to it, but it'll do for now.

"I should've trained on the treadmill a bit more," I groan, breathing deeply in and out.

I soon get back up and keep on my way. I can still get my breath back if I walk slowly, and it's better to move than stay still in plain sight. I just wish I could think of something to do that would impress sponsors. I suppose I have plenty of time right now, being alone and all, but it's a tough one. It has to be impressive, yet preferably not dangerous either.

Perhaps I am a bit of a wimp, being so avoidant of all forms of pain, but it's who I am. Though, if who I am is not what the Capitol find interesting... what can I do but change? Change to somebody I'm not like many other Victors.

There is one surefire way to get the Capitol's attention upon me in a positive way, a way to get me sponsors. It's just that there is one little issue, a minor flaw in the plan.

Killing people is sick and wrong.

But if I don't suck it up, I could die as well. It's not like everybody is going to just drop dead or drown in the swamp somehow - not that I'd exactly mind such a thing happening, weird as it is to say it - and no matter what I do, I'm gonna have to fight somebody sooner or later anyway. Besides, every other tribute who tried to be a pacifist ended up the same way. Dead. I can hold off on killing, but I can't just not do it and expect success.

Yeah, I need to just get over it and start to think and act like a Victor would. Though, I'm nothing like the Victors of Seven who still live. So, what other Victor can I draw some inspiration from? You'd think being in the Arena would make it a simple matter to recall every Victor, but my mind is so abuzz with thoughts and fears that I can't spare the space for it.

"If only it were still possible to win like Pliny did," I can't help but say as I start to climb my way up a slope, slow and steady.

Seven was lucky to be the second District to win the Hunger Games, all the way back in the second Games. After Jakki - the first ever female from my District - was the first tribute to ever die, with Ty not lasting long either, hope had been low. Lower than it already was, which was levels of low previously thought impossible so the stories go. But as I was saying, Pliny Aransio won the second Games... by doing what some in the Capitol refer to as 'camping'. She ran into the Cornucopia, grabbed some good and water, before hiding in a chest. She hid there for the four days the Games lasted. Being in the Cornucopia, no traps at the time could reach her and in the end only the battered, large boy from Five was left. Pliny more or less put him out of his misery and won.

Yeah... after such an 'unsatisfying' ending, the Gamemakers began killing off tributes who stayed in one place for too long and also make traps that could attack those inside the Cornucopia a lot easier. The only way to truly hide would be to have your tracker break when the Gamemakers are not watching you and hide in a bush. A thing that will never happen.

Finally, I reach the top of the slope. I'm at higher ground now, but it seems it's all downhill from here. Right down towards more water as a matter of fact. Seems the ground is dipping particularly low here and has created a bit of a mire.

From where I stand I can see more of those horrid reptiles a distance away. But, they're over there... and I am over here. I'm certainly charmed to be out of snacking distance. If one's flavour is determined by wealth, I'd be the perfect bite sized snack for them. I can't hold back a shudder from this.

Ok, one foot in front of the other. Left, then right. If I'm lucky, I could make it down the hill without slipping again. It's becoming quite the embarrassing trend.

One misplaced foot a few moments later has me screaming as I tumble down the hill Ack! Oof! My screams is swiftly cut off as I thump down to the ground at the bottom. I groan as I pick myself back up. It's a wonder I didn't land upon my hatchet.

"Ick, uncouth," I mutter as I brush off the mud from my sleeves.

But, looking at the mire ahead of me, I know I have bigger problems to face off against than muddy sleeves and... well, muddy everything.

No point to delaying the inevitable, I suppose. Ok, handaxe, supplies, alive, some logs I could move across. I'm all set for this.

Well, as much as I could be anyway. Ick, what a moisty mire this is!

* * *

 **(Not much later...)**

* * *

I feel as though I should retract my statement, or perhaps build upon it as the case might be. This mire is moisty, but it's also repulsive! Gross! Disgusting!

I feel somewhat ashamed for how much this makes me sound like a Capitol citizen, those whom cheer for our deaths, want for nothing and never have to actually go out and try for much in their long, lazy lives. In some ways, that describes a lot of my life so far.

Perhaps that's part of why Johanna had such a strong contempt towards me from the start? Not just as she came from a poor background, but the Capitol killed her loved ones. If I act like those from the Capitol, well... I guess I can see why she wouldn't feel inclined to help me and would just be essentially a second mentor to Wood.

Well, a Capitol citizen wouldn't be trekking their way through a swamp and that's what I am doing right now. Narrowing my eyes a little, I march forwards with more purpose in my stride.

Right now, I'm starting to run out of ground to walk upon. The rain isn't quite as heavy as before, but it's still ongoing. I think the water has risen a few inches since I woke up, actually. It all adds up to this place being putrid and the lack of ground.

And what ground there is... it's not much. I'd not be able to run far on it before I'd just come to more water. I'm making my best effort towards avoiding going into it, just in case whatever is within it might be lethal.

Looking back over my shoulder I can see that I have come a fair distance through the mire already, but there's still plenty of ground to cover. I can see what could pass as the exit a distance from where I am now, where ground is a lot more solid and spacious. It's my destination, but reaching it will be a problem.

The biggest problem being the crocodiles swimming around. They're not done anything towards me just yet, besides giving me perhaps the most evil eyed glare I have ever seen, but I just know it will take nothing more than a command from the Gamemakers to have them start doing much, much worse.

I've thrown some meat a distance away from me a few times to distract any that come too close, but soon enough they might wonder what I taste like. Plus, I don't have much meat left and I'd rather have it for myself. It's been hard to not plow through all of my food and my restraint is only being further tested as the day goes by.

The crocodiles want to eat me. I want to eat actual good... the name 'Hunger Games' is very appropriate.

I'm creeping along, crouched as I walk across the wet ground. I figure that the smaller I make myself, the less the crocodiles are going to want to eat me. Also, smaller targets are harder to hit. That's the hope, anyway. So far, it's worked. I've not hear my cannon fire. I suppose I did die I'd not hear it either, but that is beside the point.

My ears flicker at the sound of a low growling. Sharply looking to the side, I can see an crocodile is swimming closer. It leers at me, ever so slightly opening its jaws. Its tongue flicks the air, tasting it.

Tasting _me_. They can do that, right? I recall reading a book about that, or was it those dragon things...

Nuts, it's coming nearer!

Fight, or flee. It's one or the other, I need to decide now. I could smash it in the face with the axe... but then the rest will certainly start to close in. If I run I may have to go into the water and risk dangers beneath the surface that I cannot see.

I turn to run. I'll take a leech over an crocodile! I can hear the crocodile growing louder now, annoyed that its small snack is escaping. Upon glancing back I quickly wish I hadn't. The beast opens its jaw wide and charges after me. Nuts!

"Nuts, nuts, nuts," I mutter, running through the shallow water and towards the nearest island I can see. Nothing gnaws or sucks at my ankles, a relief for certain, but the splashing is attracting attention and I can't run as fast in the water.

I'm only running through the water for about twenty seconds, but it's some of the scariest seconds of my life - the scariest are those that happened in the bloodbath, or when I overheard Ramsay kill Weld - and it's only going to get worse. There's at least six of those beast starting to swim over, maybe as many as nine, all of them with their teeth barred and growling in hunger.

Nuts...

One on one, maybe I could kill one or at least drive it off. But this many, it's impossible! I try not to cry or scream. I just try to focus on running away. Perhaps it could be called cowardice, but running into an unwinnable battle is recklessness. That's no better.

Glancing back, I can see that the crocodiles have split into two groups. They swim left and right. A flanking manoeuvrer, one to try and cut me off up ahead. Nuts! But, as it happens, I'm faster than they are.

I can still do this, I can still do this.

As I scramble over logs, mud and roots I cannot help but wonder how the people of my District are feeling as they see me run for my life. Scared and anxious or just apathetic? I know Ranger would be panicking, but what of the maids? Or, father? I know we've been distant ever since... well, I just hope he's feeling something. Not that I'd wish terror upon him. His job is already stressful enough on a good day.

I'm quick to reach the other side of the swamp island, but now a new problem has presented itself to me. Nuts! Several tree stumps in a row lead to solid ground and any chance I have left for escaping the mire. The crocodiles are closing in on both sides... looks like I'm gonna have to jump across them. I'm no acrobat - in fact, I'm not that great at long jumping, perhaps because of my small legs - but I have to try to be one, or close enough. It's that, or...

One glance at the open jaw of one of the crocodiles has me quickly leaping onto the first stump. I stumble, almost tumbling into the swamp water. A close thing, but I keep myself balanced. I need a calm mind for this, something that's pretty impossible right now. Urgghh, why couldn't the escort have picked the paper slip beside my own? Surely it could've been somebody else.

Though, what if it was a twelve year old? A lot of younger kids in Seven have been dealing with tree sickness lately. A nasty condition, one that'd surely give them less chance than I. Even s the women I am, I have odds listed as seven to one. Come on Nettle, you have a chance. Now, take it!

At that last word I leap to the second stump, stumbling again. But, less than I did with the first stump. Behind me two of the crocodiles jump up to where I was and smash into each other. Growing in pain, they start biting at each other. Well, better they gain a taste for their own flesh than mine. Oh, those chewing sounds are not charming...

I scream and duck down as two more crocodiles lunge at me. No, no, no! My breathing is fast and light, my chest hurting from the pounding of my heart. It's only because I'm so short that I'm still alive. They soar right over my head and into the water either side of me. By the time they're snarling in such contempt at me, I have already leapt over to the next stump. Not much further to go now; just one more stump and then a sprint through some swamp water. Urrggghh, gross...

I scream and lunge forth on reflex when the crocodile comes forwards to try and bite me. Nuts! It's making me jump forwards the last crocodile, perched upon the last stump with its jaw wide open. I shriek in a way most shrill, swinging the hatchet at it as hard as I can.

The sound of the sharp edge hitting the crocodile's flesh is certainly off-putting. A gross mixture of squishy and like the sound of a book splatting a bug. In this case, a huge reptile bug with horrible, horrible and s-s-sharp t-t-teeth...

The crocodile roars, though whether from anger or pain I'd rather not stick around to find out. I'm already lunging past it and into the swamp water. It's coming up to my kneels and it's quite a strain to slog my way through it. I'm feeling fatigued already. Glancing back, I see the crocodile with a now bloodied face is starting to swim after me. It snarls, slowly opening its jaws all the way.

Nuts, nuts, nuts!

I reach the bank of the mire before any of the crocodiles get into biting range. Tired as I may be, I take off as quickly as I can. I shan't be a snack today, I shan't!

My legs throb as I sprint along as quickly as possible. I'm panting before long, but I'm too afraid to look back. I don't dare do anything but run.

Distantly, I hear something rattle through the air. Was... was that an explosion!? A faint boom, but certainly not that of a cannon. Nobody died... indeed, after several seconds pass without a cannon firing I know for certain that there are still fourteen of us left. But, what was that?!

It occurs to me a few minutes later, once I finally see the crocodiles have given up the chase and then allow myself to collapse against the base of a large tree, that it finally occurs to me in a moment of shaky clarity what the explosion must have been.

What natural thing of nature causes an explosion in the woods? Trick question, nothing does. Not that I know of anyway. It has to be something humans have built... ok, the whole Arena was technically but bare with me here.

I refer to the fact landmines are always under the pedestals, and how it's been made clear to me that Gadget rearmed them, so... wait... oh... nuts!

Gadget must be nearby! With explosives... this doesn't bode well. One of those and I'm dead. Even if it's not a direct hit, the radius of the blast would certainly do more than just tickle.

Well, the best thing about hearing an explosion is knowing where the bomber will be, roughly. I'll just do the smart thing and go the exact opposite direction. Feels crazy to say it, but I'm not confident about facing the thirteen year old from Three. Or, perhaps, her bombs are what I'd rather not face.

Either way, I'm getting the heck out of here! Between the direction of the explosion or towards the flooded, extra creepy woodland a distance away I'll take the latter!

* * *

 **(Time passes...)**

* * *

Maybe the explosion path would've been better. I mean, maybe I could've reasoned with Gadget or give her some food in exchange for a safe passage? How hard could somebody that young be to negotiate with? I guess I shan't know, as now I've picked my path and have no time to waste in turning back.

The rain's getting heavy again, but it seems the clouds are starting to get a lighter shade of grey. I think that means they're running out of water within them. Just as well, as being soaked almost to my underwear is certainly not fun to deal with. As I wring out some of the water from my braids, I can't help but think back to my bed back home.

Warm covers.

Soft mattress.

Hot water bottle...

I slap myself. No, no! Longing for home just makes it even worse. The best I can do is focus upon my tribute token and the comfort it may bring me. I reach into my pocket and take it out, holding it tightly in my left fist. A token should be personal, and remind a tribute of their home; of their very life as it stands outside the Games. After all, it's a life that may never be reclaimed... even if you win.

This thing in my hand started life as a fine branch of a mighty oak tree. But, it was carved by some of the best whittlers in Seven, if not the best, and became the idol I now hold in my hand. Some would call it a 'tiki'. As for me, I would call it a fancy possession. The attention to detail sure is stunning, just look at the way the mouth is carved and how carefully the spikes upon the head were spaced apart. Lovely, isn't it?

I soon slip it back into my pocket. That's enough comfort for now; I have work to do.

For starters, finding a way across the fast flowing river beside me. It looks pretty deep, and I'd much rather find a way past it that won't involve having to get wet. Not only is it terribly gross looking water, but I could freeze to death if I get soaked head to toe. So, I'm in search of a bridge.

Ok, less a bridge and more of a fallen tree that leads across. Eh, same thing right? Either way I stay dry and oh so far away from death. I'd hope at least.

"Hey," I say, looking up at the sky. "Any chance of a better axe? It's just that I might need to chop down a tree to get across and this hatchet isn't big enough."

I stand still, tapping my foot a bit, awaiting any kind of sponsor. Alas, nothing. Guess it's all up to me to figure it out then. Ok, fine. So I'll have find a tree with enough length to form a bridge first of all - six meters should be enough - and then get the angle just right. Perhaps I-oh my goodness, yes!

A sponsor parachute falls towards the ground nearby, coming to a gentle stop. I'm quickly running over to it, eager as can be. My eagerness swiftly turns into confusion when I see no axe has come with it. In fact, there's not even a substitute for an axe. There's nothing here!

Well, actually, upon closer inspection it seems that I've gotten a letter. Hm, they must be using some special ink to stop the rain smudging it into being illegible.

 _-Kid_

 _Just swim across, it's not that hard. Seriously._

 _Johanna._

"Kid?" I ask, snorting. "I'm sixteen Johanna, sixteen. That's old enough to get married and have sex... not that such matters are at the front of my mind right now or anything. Uh... well, anyway, some Mentor you're turning out to be. Some bad one, that is! Fine then, I'll just do it myself! I don't need you Johanna. You're superfluous."

A few moments pass. Right before I keep walking I spot another parachute coming towards me. Like the first one, no useful gear has been sponsored. Just another note.

 _-Brat_

 _The hell's superfluous mean?_

 _Johanna-_

"Unnecessary. I don't need you to win these Games," I say, sniffing in a manner perhaps snooty. "I need you the same way I need a broken leg. Not particularly."

I walk only a few paces before a third parachute drops down, a third letter attached to it.

 _-Tribute_

 _Fuck you._

 _Johanna-_

"Charmed," I say, rolling my eyes.

Perhaps antagonising my Mentor is not a very good idea. But really, if she's written me off and doesn't want to give me actual help, does Johanna really count as a Mentor? It feels as though there are two separate Games being played right now; the battle between us tributes, and a sort of verbal duel between Johanna and I. If I have my way like I often do back home then I'll hopefully win both.

I discard the parachutes into the river - no sense leaving evidence I was here - and continue on my way. My drive to win and survive is stronger than ever. Isn't it amazing how the thought of proving somebody wrong makes it easier to do things? One could say that contempt is magic.

I walk along for several minutes, always on the watch for a passage across the river. The rain is starting to finally die out now. At last! Though, the river remains fast flowing and surely dangerous. At least I'll dry off in a few hours if I can stay out of it.

My blood runs cold when I hear voices and footsteps getting closer towards me. I'm swift to hide behind a boulder, not making a sound as the voices come closer. Maybe if I remain silent they'll pass by without ever knowing I'm here?

As soon as I recognise the voices, my heart rate becomes painfully fast and everything begins to feel light. Nuts! Oh, please don't let them find me...

It's Glimmer and Clove. Where they are, surely it means that Marvel, Cato and Peeta are not very far behind. Nuts, of _all_ the tributes to be near me it _had_ to be them...

"I'm getting really sick of this rain," Glimmer says, sounding frustrated. "It's making my skin feel sore, and everything smells gross."

"I hate for more practical reasons," Clove responds. "It's hard to navigate through the rain, mud and floods. As they tell us at the academy, you never split the pack. But look what's happened."

"Think the boys will be ok?" Glimmer sounds uneasy.

"Cato and Marvel will be. Peeta, who the fuck cares?" Clove asks, sounding bored. "I know he can lead us to Katniss, but she'll probably drown. Since when do tributes from Twelve know how to swim?"

"Not once, to my memory," Glimmer replies. "What was up with that explosion? You heard it, right Clove?"

"How could I not, it was an _explosion_ ," Clove responds, flatly. They've stopped walking by now, standing nearby but not seeing me. Come on, leave... "We saw the pedestals, somebody dug up the mines. Not hard to put two and two together."

"I bet it was that girl from Three," Glimmer says. She sounds contemptuous. "Technology is her thing, she'd know how to do that. I expected her to die easily, but now I'm not so sure."

"She's a twig," Clove says, dryly.

"A twig who has landmines!" Glimmer hisses. "What if she blows up the boys, Clove?!"

"You sound attached," Clove says slowly. "I mean, Cato is nice and all, but Marvel... eh, five out of ten. That's me being generous."

"Well, we used to date," Glimmer says. I hear her put away her bow. I think so at least. "I guess I feel sentimental."

"Well don't, it'll get you killed. I don't want that happening too early," Clove says, sulking. "Not when there are still a bunch of people I need to stab. Especially that girl from Seven."

I shudder, suddenly feeling ever so sick. Talking about me when I'm so close, it all adds up to make me feel extra scared than I already was. Come on, go away...

"Marvel is an idiot for not realising she was alive. He went right up beside her!" Clove stomps her foot, sounding pissed. "We lost lots of supplies, and the flood is gonna make it hard to get back to the Cornucopia. I swear, I just want to stab her. Stab anything!"

"Not me, I hope?" Glimmer says, huffing.

"Eh, give it a week," Clove shrugs. "Anyway, while we're here and having no idea where the hell to go... entertain me so I don't get bored and stabby. What's it like in One?"

"Well, it's pretty nice," Glimmer says. "Beautiful snow coated winters, rich streets with not a crack or a flaw in sight. Oh, and there's a solid gold lake at the park. It's wonderful, trust me."

"...A solid lake? Uh, how the hell does that even work?" Clove sounds confused. Honestly, I am too.

"It works very well," Glimmer says, giggling. "Perfect place for a day out in the summer. It's where I learned to swim and-"

"You learned to swim in gold? Gold, as in a liquid metal? ...You people in One are a strange lot," Clove sighs, as if offended by the mere existence of such an admittedly weird thing as a gold lake. "Almost makes me wish we had a third Career District for some variety."

"Maybe Five? They're, like, third richest after One and Two," Glimmers says. "Not bad looking either."

They seem distracted, so I take the chance to start creeping away. I'm mindful to not step on a single twig or anything that might make a loud noise at a very bad moment. I've seen enough TV to know the cliche and enough Hunger Games to know what to avoid doing.

Interested to note that Marvel and Glimmer were once an item. It makes me wonder if this might effect how they'll act in days ahead, or if there truly is nothing there anymore. District Partners from Career Districts tend to always have a strong bond, or at least work well as a team. I get a sense of this from Cato and Clove, though I still wonder about the pair from One. Hopefully I can just get out of here unseen and then never have to think about them again... or, not for a few days, maybe.

I creep carefully, my form low to the ground and every step quick yet soft. I glance back every few seconds to be sure I've not been seen. Thankfully not; the two Careers are more focused on discussing the pros and cons of Five being a Career District prospect.

Personally, I'd not mind it if Seven could be one. Maybe then my citizens would have more of a chance than normal, but then of course the thought of them becoming sadists springs to mind. An ugly thought, but you don't need to be a Career to be a sadist. Maybe it could work out.

Just as a thick patch of trees comes in range, barely a few meters away, a shout fills the air. It also fills me with purest dread. Nuts...

"It's her!" Glimmer screams. Looking over my shoulder, I see she's pointing right at me as she shrieks. No, no, no!

I don't dare stick around to hear more, I just run for my life. There is a time for negotiating, but as any leader - past, present or future - would tell you, there is also a time to say 'screw it' and run away from your problems. Perhaps it's unbecoming of a leader, but most leaders don't have two trained killers only a short distance from them!

"Where you going Seven?" Clove yells, suddenly very eager. Eager for blood that is. "I'll help you play dead! This time, you'll die properly!"

"I'll get her!" Glimmer says.

I run between the trees. If she's gonna try firing an arrow at me, the best I can do is make myself a very hard target to hit. Sure enough, I hear the arrow sailing by and coming nowhere near me. I have no idea where it landed, but so long as it's away from Glimmer and my body then I don't care where it went.

Glimmer may not be a huge issue, but Clove sure is. She scored higher and I am pretty sure she's a lot more agile. Worst yet are those knives of hers. She can throw them so well, like nothing I've seen before. At least, not recently. I can only hope I'll be too hard of a target for her to hit.

"Kill her, Clove!" Glimmer says, sounding a bit more distant. "Urgh, screw this mud!"

Glancing back for the briefest of moments I see that Clove isn't far behind - in fact, only the trees and slipper ground are holding her back from throwing a knife at me - while Glimmer is getting a bit further away. It seems like Clove is more capable in rough terrain. An issue, as she's coming right for me! Nuts, nuts, nuts!

I scream as a knife flies at me, mercifully lodging into my backpack. On the one hand a new weapon. On the other hand, that matters little as surely I would be slain if I tried to fight Clove up close. What do I do!? How can I get rid of her and not be killed as soon as I try? Come on think! I'll be out of energy soon.

Glancing at the raging river I have my answer. Surely Clove would not be able to swim against that current, and even if she did she's be soaked like a drowned rat, much less able to fight than before. If I could just throw her in somehow...

...Of course, with how small I am it's not like I can just grab her and throw her down there. Now, Thresh, he was big and strong. If I was tall like him then I could easily do it. I'd have to surprise her somehow, catch her right off guard... but how?

"You know I'm gonna catch you eventually right?" Clove calls to me. A knife flies past me, digging into a tree. The rough ground must be making aiming harder, thank goodness. " _And when I do_... heheheheh..."

A creaking sound attracts my attention swiftly. Looking up I scream as a tree starts to fall. Goodness gracious, it's huge! A gigantic redwood, I think. I press on, forcing my burning legs to keep moving. I pass through the danger zone swiftly. Glancing back I see Clove is forcing herself to run faster as well. I suppose being crushed by a tree is no way for a dignified Career to die. Beyond her, Glimmer is still falling behind. I don't even think she'll make it to the tree in time.

The ground rumbles heavily as the tree smashes to the earth. Glimmer screams, more out of fury than any kind of pain. She's being left behind.

"Bugger!" she snaps from afar. "Kill her Clove, but save some for me! I'll try to catch up."

Glancing back I can see that Clove tripped over into the mud. The force of the tree barely a few feet behind her must have knocked her a little unsteady. She looks up at me, meeting my eyes for just a moment. I shan't forget that bloodlusting look on her face...

It's hard to believe she's actually younger than I am.

"Ok Seven, let's do this!" she yells, leaping up to her feet.

As soon as she's risen, I've already made it near the raging river and hidden myself in a thick bush. I breath fast and light beyond my control, whimpering. Quietly, I slip the knife from where it got lodged into my backpack and slot it into my jacket. Holding my hatchet, I remain crouched low and perfectly still.

Clove soon comes by, slowing to a halt. She turns around in a swift circle, looking all over. She scowls, unable to see me. She sheathes her knife and balls her fists tightly.

"Where did she get to?" she mutters.

I remain still, waiting for the perfect moment. Timing is truly everything right now.

The second Clove turns her back to me I make my move. It's do or die, with vast preference to the former!

I charge at her, throwing all my weight forth to smash my elbow into her. She turns at me sharply, a second before impact. One moment I smash into her before she can grab for a knife and she starts to topple down to the raging water.

The next moment, I'm screaming as she grabs hold of my jacket and drags me down with her. I choke and gasp as the water fills my nose and mouth, spitting the horrible stuff out as I surface. Instantly the cold of the water hits me full force and I'm starting to writhe.

"AAARRGGHH! Let me out!" I scream and shout, not that I expect help to come. "Get me out of here, right now!"

Clove makes several muffled shouts and scream below me, forcing herself up from the water. In my panic, I'm briefly forgotten about her. Right now we're both clutching each other and being washed away at quite a speed.

"Real clever," she says, fumbling for a knife. "Too bad it won't help you."

I try to swing at Clove with my hatchet, but she dunks me under the water. Again my nose fills up and I'm screaming. Oxygen is quickly leaving my body, making everything faint and suffocating. I find myself trying to punch at Clove blindly, but it's not having any effect. Not until I ram the handle end of the hatchet into her gut. The force holding me lessens, allow me to surface once more and gasp for air.

"You... bitch..." Clove gags, coughing a bit. "You're gonna-."

I don't care to know what I gonna be, or do, or whatever the next word would imply. I take the chance to force myself on top of her and keep her head below the water. I can feel my energy starting to slip away, my chest by now sore from my pounding heart beats. Fortunately, the water is making Clove's energy also lessen. Though, will that even matter when she was far stronger than me to begin with?

I scream as Clove jerks up her knee right against my crotch with all the force of a hard punch. AAARRGGHH... aaaahhhh... owwwwww... that one really hurt...

Clove rises again, pulling roughly at me hair. That snarl, the twitch in her eyes, the way her hair is getting stringy and matted as we're carried along, it all adds up to make more of my breath leave me. She's terrifying, moreso than a wild bear in Seven.

"You better hope you drown, because if we both wash up on a bank you'll be begging for death!" she screams, her breathing heavy. I can't help but briefly ponder, in great fear of course, just how far her mental instability extends. How severe is it? "You'll... be... b-begging..."

Clove shivers from the cold, much like how I am as well. It's so freezing. So cold you'd be forgiven for thinking this was a tundra Arena. If we can't get out soon, then we're both gonna be dead. Any moment, I could lose my hold on my hatchet. I need it, I can't afford to lose it!

"Get off of me!" I scream, striking her right across the face with my free hand. Her cheek turns crimson swiftly. "NOW!"

The punch has her nose turn crimson too, even though the frozen water is making it hard to focus or hit hard. We're both screaming, but quieter now. Shit, not long now and we'll be getting hypothermia. I gotta get out of here!

Of course, the issue there is that Clove has a rock solid grip on me once again. She grits her teeth hard as she tries to force me under once again. I fight back, forcing her in return as much as I can. It hurts so _much_...

An explosion rips through the air, one that sounded very close by. I wheeze out in alarm while Clove lets out a curse. Glancing back for a moment I see what she means.

A tree on an upper section of the bank just got blown up and now lots of debris are in the river ahead of us. Smacking into them would be highly painful, especially at this speed. Nuts, nuts, nuts!

Glancing at the explosion zone I can see the gory remains of what seems like a big bear. A Mutt maybe? A moment later I see a tall girl in yellow and, I think, a short boy in blue, quickly running away.

Gadget! And that boy, what was his name? Where was he from?

...Urch, maybe? Something like that. The small boy from Four, he must be allied with Gadget. I suppose it makes sense for the youngest tributes to work together, just the same as it makes sense for the strong Careers to do the same.

Speaking of, Clove is so damn strong. I can't force her under properly. The best I can do is spin us around.

...

And that might just be the one thing I need. Fingers crossed, of course.

"Had... enough?" she chokes.

"Yes!" I wheeze, coughing out water. "How about you?"

At that last word I use what energy I've still got in me to spin our position around. Clove yells more, hitting me again, but a moment later the force of the water carries us right into a large, broken part of the tree that just got blown up. Clove takes all the impact while I just try to not sob too loudly, and hold on for the ride.

Clove babbles something unintelligible. I cannot make out what it is that she's saying, exactly. All I know for sure is that the force has left her dazed. I feel her grip loosen from me as she floats upon her back with her eyes spinning a bit in their sockets.

It's like I'm not even in control of myself, I act that fast. Of course, it's a poor excuse. I'm sure part of me, maybe a big part, knows what it is that I am doing. That being to put more weight upon her and force her under the water. She screams and shouts, writhing and choking, but now I have the upper hand. I may be tiny and pretty lightweight, but even I will gain the upper-hand if my opponent is knocked into being self-conscious.

"Die, die, die," I mutter, shaking and closing my eyes, unable to look at my actions. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

A meaningless apology if ever there was one. Emotionally I'm feeling tormented, but physically it gets easier and easier as Clove continues to run out of oxygen by the second. It's a whole minute of this watery violence before she finally stops struggling entirely, becoming limp under me.

I shake like a madwoman for a few seconds, each one passing in silence. Nothing exists to me expect my own pain and Clove beneath me.

Louder than any landmine, the cannon fires.

The feelings of cold, pain and guilt all build up in an instant, making me puke into the river. I... I just killed somebody. I didn't want to, surely that much is clear, right? It was just a case of outliving, not being a murderer, but now I've killed somebody.

If I survive the Games, then Seven will one day have a murderer for a leader.

Pathetic. Shameful.

But I'll cry about it later. I... I just need to face facts. Only killers win the Hunger Games, and I don't want to die. Pacifism never works. And... it was self-defence, right? I tackled her, but she threw a knife at me. Fuck, I'm a mess.

Looking around I can only flinch when I see the riverbanks either side of me are raised above the water by a few feet. The river must have flooded into a sort of forest canyon or cliff area. I can't climb out! I'll have to stay where I am until the river banks become possible for me to climb up. Well, assuming that I don't die from freezing beforehand.

The debris are flowing too far away for me to swim towards them for some sort of platform. I can only stay where I am right now.

That being, upon Clove's corpse. Shaking in disgust, I sit hunched over upon my fallen foe as she and I continue to flow down the river. I can only hope she won't sink before we hit some form of land.

"Told y-y-you I didn't n-need you J-J-Johanna," I stammer, huddling myself. Whether from cold or trauma, I don't know.

* * *

 **(Time passes...)**

* * *

I'm stumbling in a trance by the time Clove's corpse and myself wash up against solid ground. Wheezing, I collapse upon the ground. I try to say something, but I don't rightly know what. It comes out muffled and slurred. Rolling over, I look up at the sky.

"At least the rain has stopped," I say, weakly pumping a fist. "Bliss."

It's some time before I sit up, but I force myself to do it. The Gamemakers are gonna want Clove's corpse to be taken away, and it's already been a very delayed pick-up. Not that I could help that, but I'd suspect they will not care. It's time to move on.

And time to eat too, I'm starving. Quite literally to death, in all honestly.

...I need to check Clove's stuff. She won't need it, and it's not like I'm the only tribute to ever, uh, body loot. I'm still alive and I'll see to it that it remains that way.

I'm make sure to be quick with the job, not doing it for a second longer than I have to. Clove's supplies aren't bad stuff, that's for sure. Besides the six knives she still had there's a bunch of stuff in her own backpack. Stuff I can use.

Two packs of meat.

One half eaten pack of dried fruit.

A first aid spray.

A miniature blowtorch.

I would have expected her to have had more than this, but perhaps one of the other Careers was assigned the role of supply carrier. Supplies are supplies, really, no matter how many of few of them there are. I swiftly pack it all into my own backpack, paying close attention to the blowtorch.

The perfect way to start a fire to warm myself up. Oh thank merciful heavens...

I pause, finding something else inside Clove's belongings. A hairclip, one with a plastic knife decoration upon it. It must be her tribute token. Can't let this one just be discarded to the tribute museum, can I?

Indeed not, so I pocket it just as I did with Weld's token. If I get out of here, I'll return it to her family. If I die... well, same end result for the tokens.

Step one, find a safer location. Step two, start a fire and prevent myself freezing to death in the next few hours. Not a complex plan, but sometimes simplicity rules.

The thunder booms once more, lighting striking a nearby tree. Not enough to cause me any pain or inconvenience, but certainly a fright. Not just the sound but the clear order I am being given.

Paraphrased, _**move away from the body or be dead as well**_.

I give a silent, quick nod and scamper away into the wet woodland. The sound of the hovercraft descending soon has me running even faster. I don't want to piss them off enough to fire upon me or something dreadful such as that.

Amazing how murder outside the Arena means death by firing squad. The only thing sparing me that fate now is the location I'm in. So insane...

* * *

 **(A while later...)**

* * *

With every step I take, the value of a good night's sleep is becoming more and more apparent. I've never had issues sleeping before, not any that I really remember, but even if I have it can't have left me exhausted like I am now. I'm cold, miserable, yawning constantly and generally I just feel so done with the waking world right now, to be honest. I just want to light a fire and fall asleep beside it.

Maybe sleep will help ease up the guilt and self-disgust. Or, more likely, it won't but it'll at least help me feel less worn out. Of course, I cannot really set up for the night. Not here.

It's starting to approach sunset now. That kind of time in the evening where you know nightfall is on the way, but the golden glow of the setting sun hasn't quite made its pretty debut just yet. The kind of dying light that looks wonderful over a forest.

Much better than the dying light in somebody's eyes.

I'm walking up a large hill as the fake sun moves ever so slowly closer to the horizon. I remember overhearing Blight telling Wood to go for the high ground if possible, so I'm taking the tip and doing what my not-Mentor said. Perhaps I'll be able to see tributes from miles away. And if not, it's a nice view at least.

As I walk, I can't help but look over Clove's token again. Twirling the hair clip I notice a little inscription upon the back. It's really hard to make it out, but straining my eyes to the point they sting shows me what the swords say.

 _'Clove Collia Clayton, out little warrior. Love you always - Mr & Mrs Clayton'_

It's as if I've been punched in the gut by somebody triple my size. She had a loving family, one who she shall never be going back to now. I mean, I suspect it's obvious that the odds are in favour that most of us in this Arena have loving families... but, seeing the proof for myself makes it all become much clearer. It also quadruples the guilt.

Suck it up. Suck it up. _Suck it up_.

I practically swallow back the guilt and force myself to keep on moving. The more I dwell on it, the harder victory is going to be. I need to just turn off my emotions and do what I've gotta do, whatever it may be. I have to think like Johanna. Hmm, would this mean I'd have to also hate myself? She hates me and... there I go overthinking.

I've seen enough hate for one day. One week. One month. Screw it, one lifetime to be honest.

I feel weary as I stumble to the base of a fairly large apple tree. I yawn, ready to just settle down here for the night, but I hear a sound that makes me freeze more than I already am.

A sneeze.

A human sneeze!

I scramble away from the tree, quickly peering up into the branches. I hold my hatchet tightly, like my life depends on it. Thing is, it probably does. Looking up there, I strain my eyes again to see who might be up there. It's hard to see through the thick leaves and many apples, but I soon get lucky in my search and spot a pair of eyes looking back at me.

It takes me a few moments to have any idea who they belong to, during which time I am backing away quickly. When the tribute pokes their head through the tree leaves and into plain site, flashing a cheeky grin, I suddenly find it hard to feel scared.

After all, the small girl from District Eleven is not exactly what I would call scary. Though, she's only a few inches shorter than I am. For all I know, she could grow to be one tall, scary woman. Though, for that to happen I'd have to die and...

I shake my head a little, looking right back at her.

"Hi," she says, looking down at me. "Had a nice day?"

"No, it's been bad," I reply, the words out my mouth before I can really consider them.

"You look soaked," the small girl says. "Fall in a river?"

"In a manner of speaking, it wouldn't be inaccurate to say so," I say, shivering. The setting sun is making things ever colder. So cold, _so cold_... "It's been a lot to deal with, honestly."

"It's not been great for me either. I think these apples are poisonous," the girl says, looking fairly huffy. "The branches and leaves are fine, but the apples... it's like we say back in eleven; apples apples everywhere but not a bite to eat."

"I would have assumed, perhaps naively in retrospect, you would have more to eat in Eleven. You grow food," I say, surprised. Oh wait, no... the Capitol exists. It's really no surprise.

"The Capitol gets most of it. We're not allowed to eat it ourselves," she says, shaking her head. Amazingly, she seems less depressed over this legally sanctioned starvation and more just perfectly 'meh' over it. "Eating food meant for the Capitol, that's a paddlin'."

For a time, we're both silent. I can't tell if that last part of her statement was meant as a joke, or that the Peacekeepers actually paddle people in Eleven. The thought has me gulp. The girl meanwhile just stays where she is, still looking at me.

"So, is this the part where we try and kill each other?" she says, climbing up a higher branch as she speaks. "I'd rather we didn't do that. But if we're gonna... my name's Rue."

I pause, pondering why she just randomly told me her name. A bit of a non-sequiter is it not?

"Uh," I pause again. "Why did you...?"

"Say my name? Some say it makes it harder to kill somebody if the would-be killer knows their name," Rue says, the cheekiest of smirks on her face.

Dammit, she's right! Not that I was planning on killing her, but now it's becoming harder. I know her as Rue now, not just a number. I should get moving, I'm cold and it's only getting worse. But having a talk with somebody not trying to stab me... its comforting, somehow.

Though, I'll certainly keep quiet about the fact her big District Partner died because he tripped over me. There's such a thing as being too honest.

"I'm not gonna kill you," I say to her. "Why try? You're up a tree and I'm not that good at climbing them. You have the advantage."

"And you're freezing as well," Rue adds. "Feel free to keep on moving. Be careful though, the boy from Ten went that way a few hours ago. If you think that's worth the dry higher round, by all means keep walking."

"I think I will," I say. "Better than going back down there to where Glimmer is hanging around, or where Gadget and Urch have their landmines."

"His name is Urchin," Rue says. "I remember his interview. He was cute. ...Wait, landmines? Ok, now I'm _really_ not coming down."

"You mean you were going to before I said that?" I ask her.

"Well, no, but... just walk that-a-way," Rue says, pointing further into the high ground. "Watch out for snares or any tracks you leave. The boy from Ten knows how to set snares and track stuff, I saw him."

"I've... seen him before as well," I swallow nervously, my throat suddenly very dry. Of course, it'll be worse than dry if he gets near me. I can't help but think of Weld's screams as he was suffocated. "Be seeing you then Rue. Good luck."

Shivering all the way I start to walk away from the tree before breaking out into a full sprint. She may be twelve, but there have been twelve year olds who have killed people in past Hunger Games. I remember one got lucky and killed somebody aged eighteen. That being a real thing, a twelve year old killing somebody aged sixteen like myself, it means I'd be a fool to underestimate her.

I soon run out from open ground and into the forest. Getting the blood pumping makes the cold feel a little less, well, cold. Though, only a warm fire is really going to help me. Better yet, a change of clothes though that certainly isn't going to be happening any time soon. I try to cast away the thought of my walk-in closet back home.

Right as I'm starting to enter the deeper part of the high-ground forest my eyes widen as a dreaful sound fills up the air all around, especially by my ears.

A terrified scream.

Rue!

The cannon booms, loud and fearsome. I'm frozen in place, my heart pounding as I look back where I came. Backing away slowly I keep my ears sharp and attentive. It's not long before the hovercraft begins to lower back where I was only a few minutes ago. There's no doubt about it then, that cannon was for Rue. Practically a child, yet now she's dead. She was right there talking to me, and now she's gone forever.

I have no right to judge anybody on killing, yet I still feel my throat drying and my chest tightening at the thought of somebody killing a person so young. It feels... well, ever so awful. Who would do such a thing?

Somebody who isn't even half a mile from where I am now! Nuts, they might be on their way after me next!

I'm gasping and groaning as I sprint through the forest. I need to get out of here, _right now_. But it's not just fear in my eyes, but a flicker of determination to live. If sprinting through some tricky terrain is what'll save me, then so be it, it's what I shall do!

Nuts, I really need to light a fire and warm up. Like, _now_. Sure, my muscles are warm and the blood is pumping but it's hardly a cure for how I feel after the river battle. But do I dare light up a fire when the killer is so close to me? No! It might be Glimmer, or maybe Ramsay doubled back and saw her. It could even be the Career boys or... anybody!

The sun starts to set, the golden glow finally cast upon the forest from beyond the rain-clouds, but the beauty is among the last of things on my mind right now. First and foremost, I'm running for my life. It would not do for a lady to lay slaughtered on the ground, and I shan't be letting it happen.

 _Nuts_... I just wish my legs were a lot stronger than they are...

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

I lay flat on the ground, groaning. It's hard to keep myself from being totally face-down, my mouth to the rock, but somehow I manage to keep my head up a little.

I honestly think I'd be dead if not for the blowtorch - and, on a related note, dead if Clove's backpack and mine were not waterproof - but it took courage to even dare to use it. A fire could give me away, and that person is still out there somewhere. A fire would be a signal to where I am, and I have no way of knowing who is asleep and who isn't. Paranoia, a thing that will strike down the wealthy and poor alike. Much the same as a falling tree in that respect.

But, temptation became too much as did the cold, so I caved and lit a fire. I was lucky enough to find a dark, dismal cave to settle down in. Sure, getting rid of those grubs was gross business - the puke stains on the wall of the cave attest to this fact - but at least now I have a shelter from the cold night. The rain has stopped, but it's still freezing.

So now, feeling very sorry for myself, I lay at the back of the cave next to the fire. I was mindful to only make a small one because dying by smoke build-up isn't something I've ever aspired for. I've dried off, but now my skin feels pretty sore. Hopefully come the morning it won't be as uncomfortable as it is now. I may be warming up, but I'm still shivering horribly. From cold, from guilt, from the possibility of water still in my lungs. Plenty to shiver over.

Twelve dead. Eleven more, and then I can go home to pick up the pieces and move on. Isn't it strange how I'm already halfway done, but escape feels more distant than ever? It does to me anyway. Anything may happen between now and the deadly finale; Mutts, a Feast, some kind of Event... lots of stuff.

Exhausted as I am, sleep isn't coming quickly to me tonight. I suppose it's no wonder with what went down today... not a typical day in my life. I fear it'll become the new norm, to be in danger and kill people. I hope these Games end swiftly this year.

Not too swift though...

I sit myself up, huddling by the fire. What can I do to pass time until I can finally sleep?

Seeing a sharp stone on the ground, I look between it and the cave wall. I think I have my answer.

A few minutes pass by, though to me it feels like it could easily have been longer than that. I carve away at the cave wall, idly drawing. It's not much, and I can't claim to be an expert, but it's keeping me occupied. My handiwork with the stone leads to etches of trees, a simple manor outline and R/N in a heart covering the cave wall. I don't expect a sponsor for this, but I can't hep hoping it might touch the heart of just one person out there. One with tons of money.

Letting the stone drop, I lay back against the wall of the cave and let out a deep, slow breath. I look up to the cave roof, closing my eyes.

"Please..." I whisper.

I open one eye, hearing the Anthem starting. I stay right here I am though. What's the point of going out where it's colder and where I risk being seen? I already know what'll happen; Capitol Seal, Clove and Rue in that order. The thought of the former has my guts tighten, a horrible sickliness passing through them.

It's certainly worse than indigestion which, to begin with, is pretty bad in itself.

I lay myself down beside the fire, using my damp backpack as a pillow. Not exactly silk or full of feathers, but right now I'll call it good enough. It's softer than rock, so what right to I have to complain? Very little, that's how much.

Just as I am settling down I hear the rain start once again. Will it be flooding the Arena further, or just make more mud? I can't help but wonder if the Cornucopia is going to become totally submerged if this keeps up.

Wait...

If the Cornucopia vanishes beneath the water, then the Careers won't have any supplies. They'd be gone! The thought of this fills me with some hope, the idea of deadly Marvel, fearsome Cato, glamorous Glimmer and traitor Peeta being without a lion's share of the supplies.

I just hope to not see them soon. I already threw out lots of their stuff. If they figure out Clove's death is my fault - and they surely will if Glimmer finds them and puts two and two together - no doubt they'll draw out my death for hours.

I may be small, spoiled and written off by Johanna... but despite my fear over how the Careers would react to what I did to Clove, fact is I killed a Career. Not just any Outlier can do that, right? Whether they can or not, I pulled it off. I did that, survived to day three and the top half... and I found shelter.

I cannot stop a little smile appearing on my face. Thinking about it, I've not been doing too bad for myself so far. It feels like I'm starting to have the odds put into my favour. Now, I'll have to make sure that they _stay_ in my favour.

But, how to best do that when the Arena around me is gradually flooding? Soon enough it might become a sea sized swamp. We'd all drown, except maybe Urchin, unless we...

...

Mweeheehee... it would appear that I've got an idea for what comes next in this deadly Game I'm forced to play. After all, there's one thing that easily prevents drowning or any water danger.

"Tomorrow," I start to say as I finally, finally settle down. "I will build a boat. Somehow, someway."

* * *

 **END OF DAY 3...**

* * *

 **REMAINING TRIBUTES**

Marvel (District 1 Male)

Glimmer (District 1 Female)

Cato (District 2 Male)

Gadget (District 3 Female)

Urchin (District 4 Male)

Cinder (District 5 Female)

Wood (District 7 Male)

Nettle (District 7 Female)

Lacey (District 8 Female)

Rammy (District 10 Male)

Peeta (District 12 Male)

Katniss (District 12 Female)

* * *

 **THE FALLEN**

13th- **Rue (District 11 Female)** – Spear thrown into chest, by Wood.

14th- **Clove (District 2 Female)** \- Drowned, by Nettle.

15th- **Weldar (District 3 Female)** \- Asphyxiated with a rope, by Rammy.

16th- **Jason (District 6 Male)** – Slashed several times in the stomach with a scythe, by Cato.

17th- **Sparky (District 5 Male)** – Speared in the gut with a spear and then stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Wood.

18th- **Sickle (District 9 Female)** – Stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Glimmer.

19th- **Thresh (District 11 Male)** – Disembowelled with a machete, by Cato.

20th- **Marina (District 4 Female)** \- Struck in the neck with an axe by Weldar.

21st- **Miller (District 9 Female)** – Knife thrown into back, by Clove.

22nd- **Tamora (District 6 Female)** – Stabbed repeatedly in the gut, by Glimmer.

23rd- **Sable (District 10 Female)** – Stuck in the skull with an axe, by Cato.

24th- **Callico (District 8 Male)** – Stabbed with a kukri, by Marvel.

* * *

 **TRIBUTE NOTES**

 **Clove:** With her death at this point after her good performances in the first three versions of the 74th Games, at the time of writing I think this now makes Marvel the statistically best ranked tribute of all twenty four? Regardless, Clove herself remained fun to write for as per the norm. The mixture of her cold and serious nature as well as her more psychotic side and love of stabbing adds together to make her pretty dynamic and almost always able to contribute something. In this case, it was a strong presence in the talk with Peeta and showing herself as the primary threat of this chapter, an what a threat she was! Even taken mostly off-guard she's never one to be messed with, including when being washed away down a river during a fight. The duel was one of my favourite fights in The Nameless Chronicles so far, really fast paced and with a feeling of panic to it, at least from my view of the writing. I'd hope the debris that led to Clove's death did not come off as overly convenient? I figured using the first explosion to show Gadget was nearby would make it seem more natural. In any case, Clove is dead... and the Pack sure aren't going to be happy. Not that they were to begin with, at any rate.

 **Rue:** Another early death for her, but per the norm she escapes the Bloodbath. Not much can really change the fact she runs off at the very start, after all. In her short appearance I enjoyed writing for her. Some cheek, some good lines and, I think, a nice conversation with our leading lady. Unfortunately she stayed in one spot for a bit too long, and so this is where she leaves the mortal world in this timeline. But as an extra note, it seems Nettle's own District Partner was the one who committed the kill. What might this mean in the future? In any case, Rue's always a fun one to write for. :)


	4. Day 4: Truth and Lies

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games.

 **Note:** Here we are, back for more! Not really got a ton to say on this one except that I had fun writing it, and I hope you guys have fun reading it. If you have time, feel free to drop a review and let me know what works / doesn't work. I love hearing your opinions on how to make a better Hunger Games... gee, I sound like a Gamemaker, huh? In any case, let's get this show on the road!

* * *

I wake up with a scream, my heart pounding. The water, the suffocating feeling, the way Clove was beneath the water with me and eating my fingers... just a dream. Not real. She's dead, the nightmare can't possibly be real.

Then again, her death was my fault and that's probably what triggered the nightmare in the first place. That dead look in her eyes, the fear as I drowned her beneath the water... thoughts like that really stick with a girl.

It's still dark outside. Not even early dawn yet. I should try and get some more rest, but I honestly doubt that I will be getting anymore sleep tonight. Not with how I'm feeling so shaken. I guess this is where the day is going to be starting for me, at ungodly early hours nobody should have to be awake for.

Well, fine then. I should get used to having an erratic sleep schedule for as long as I am in this Arena, and perhaps nobody else is awake at the moment? If all the other tributes are asleep, then the odds of being attacked are surely almost zero. The thought has me quickly on my feet, ready to go.

"I said I was gonna build a boat," I tell myself. "So, that's what I am going to do. Ok, I read a book on boats in the manor a few times... yeah, I remember what it said. Uh, Johanna? Mind sending in a how-to guide, just in case?"

As I predicted, I receive nothing. Humph! Well, she'll see, they'll _all_ see! I can win these Games without a single sponsor. Now, question is should I build a raft or perhaps a canoe? I guess I'll see what supplies are laying around for me to work with and just do what I can with those. It's not like I can just walk a mile to a lumber yard and order what I need.

I quickly organise my stuff, packing everything away and making sure that my knives are easily accessible in my pockets. After some thought, I put one down by my ankle. It's easy enough to do that with some string in my backpack. I've seen people hide weapons on them like this in past Hunger Games, so why not? For all I know, the rest may be doing the same.

Exiting the cave into the night - for once, the rain has totally stopped - I can't help shiver a bit. Not just from the cold though. It's also how I feel so... I guess, forlorn? I'm in a place that is so very much like home, yet I'm practically a stranger to it. I know Wood is probably having no problems whatsoever in surviving here; he is, after all, already accomplished at the lumber yard he works at. That's what he told our Escort anyway.

He can cut wood, chop trees, swing an axe, do everything a person from Seven should know how to do. He'll be the one they're cheering for, because the other option is me; I don't really know the first thing about felling trees or cutting wood. I think maybe it's time to face the reality of it... I feel afraid about this.

How can I ever be the Mayor, the leader, of a District I completely lack the skills and work ethic to truly be a part of? How can a leader be as such if they do cannot remotely do their District's industry?

Though, maybe it's less cannot and more will not. I've never exactly been outside much or exerted myself, have I? Maybe my tiny frame is the result of wasting away the years inside?

Who says it has to be that way though? The best way to overcome an insecurity is to prove to yourself that you can do it. So, I shall! Though, all of the trees around me are very thick. Maybe I'll start off with something a bit smaller than this, something more attuned to my skill level. That being level zero.

Walking through the moonlit forest I soon find a fairly thin tree. It towers up, but the trunk is certainly on the scrawny side of things. Perfect to practise my potential skills as a lumberjill. Rearing my hand back, gripping the hatchet oh so tightly, I take a hard swing.

And another.

And another.

It's not long at all before the tree falls to the ground with a solid thump. I can't help but clap, striking a pose in case the cameras are watching me. No time to rest though, I could use this lumber. If I can cut it into logs and find a way to bind it I'll have a raft. Then it's just a matter of dragging it away to the water and casting off.

Plus, perhaps I could make a spear too? I mean, it seems to be a simple matter of getting a long branch and making it both straight and very sharp. Maybe I could use it to spear fish? I've seen people do it in past Hunger Games, and honestly... they're fish. How hard could it actually be?

I chop the tree into logs over the course of a few minutes. Of course, I make sure to keep looking around in case anybody is nearby. As much as I hope they're all sleeping, the fact remains that whoever killed Rue had been very nearby and they could still be in the same area. I tremble at the thought of any of the others killing her. They'd kill me too!

Wait... Rue said Ramsay was in the area, right? What if he's doubled back and...

I gag, trying not to throw up at the nasty thoughts that swirl in my mind. I cannot help imagining Ramsay stabbing Rue, nor the way he choked Weld to death mere inches away from me. As much as I fear the remaining Careers, that boy from Ten is one 'Outlier' I know will prove himself to be one big threat. In fact, he may have it in him to win this whole thing.

Personally, I'd rather he didn't... I know, I'm biased.

I wipe a sweat off of my forehead as I work. This is more tiring than I thought it was going to be, but I can't just stop now. Not when I still have plenty of work to do. I have logs, though maybe not enough for a raft... so, time to chop down another tree. Perhaps a bigger one this time.

A minute passes by with me striking the hatchet at a larger tree. I'm sure I could use the lumber from this for something good. Even if I can't, it's a good way to build muscle. Imagine, going from a four foot eleven inches tall toothpick to a big and strong six foot five inches lumberjill. That'd make me look like a _real_ leader.

The tree cracks and starts to fall down, sure to smack the ground with an even bigger thud than what the first tree made.

"Shit!" a gruff voice yells.

I turn my head so fast my neck aches from the force. I quickly step back, seeing Ramsay is getting up from the ground so very close to me. Looks like the cause for his alarm was the tree almost landing where he had been standing. A nasty death indeed, to be crushed by a big tree. Indeed, he still seems rather alarmed. I'm less focused on his feelings though, moreso the rope and axe in his hands.

We're silent for a few moments, as if waiting for each other to say something first. Well, a lady shouldn't keep people waiting for too long, I suppose.

"Hello," I say. "Ramsay, isn't it? Uh... quick idea, we do not have to fight each other. We could work together, citizen with citizen. We may be from Seven and Ten, but if you think about it we're both still people and could maybe help each other? Your power, my... tree chopping? Yes, this could work wonders."

He just gives me a look.

"Actually, it's Rammy," he says. Oh... well, I feel awkward now... "I'm afraid not, little miss. Not to be rude, but I don't really see what skills you can offer that I do not already posses. I'm bigger than you, I could chop trees just as well if not better. Plus, how would I know you won't just try and kill me in my sleep like a pig for the slaughter?"

"Because I'm not a coward or a liar," I tell him. It's hard to keep calm, but I cannot show weakness. He won't want a weak ally. "Besides, I'm not weak. I was the one that killed Clove."

"Girl from Two?" he asks, looking impressed. "Mighty dang, that's impressive."

"I don't feel good about it," I say, softly.

"That don't matter, it still shows strength that you took down a career," he says, gripping his axe tighter. "But, that could also make you a big threat... and we've never spoken before, how do I know that I can trust you? I don't know that, you understand?"

"Well, I could perhaps say the same of you. I was literally a few inches away when you killed Weld," I tell him. "I also know you killed Rue, that little girl from Eleven. Despite all that, I'm still willing to work something out."

"I'll own up to killing the boy from Three, but I never laid neither hand nor weapon on that little girl," he says, shaking his head. "I don't know who did that, but it weren't me."

By this point we're starting to circle each other. I swallow some very dry saliva as I see that rope in his hands. Somehow, it scares me more than the big axe does... an axe would theoretically be quick. Being strangled to death by a rope until my lungs are empty, that's much slower and horrible.

"You sure you want to continue on in these Games working all alone?" I ask him. Not as a threat, but an honest question. "The Careers have their group and Peeta is in it. Gadget and Urchin are allied and have landmines as weapons. Wood, my District Partner, will probably excel in an Arena like this... and as we know, Katniss scored an eleven."

"Like I said, I don't trust you," he replies, not taking his eyes off of me as we continue the circling movement. "I'm not a born killer, but I am pragmatic... if killing you helps my odds of getting home, and in my opinion it will, then I gotta do it regardless of how I feel on the inside."

"Why do people never listen to diplomacy?" I ask with a groan. "It's not a hard concept! Two is more than one. Two is better to survive the Careers, who currently number at four. Your District Partner is dead, so you don't have any other allies."

I might have touched a nerve. Rammy clenches his eyes shut for a moment, clearly pained. He shudders, but quickly holds his axe tighter than ever as he looks at me.

"Sable was more than just my District Partner. She'd have been my wife one day," he says, coldly. "...She was gentle, not a killer. I would've died for her. But now she's dead... all because of that pig from Two. She'd not want me to kill... but she also accepted that I'd have to kill in order to protect her. She'd not want me to die when I have a chance to live."

He turns to face me, looking me dead in the eyes.

"On your guard, Seven," he says, firm as can be.

"My name is Nettle," I say. Perhaps Rue's idea of making sure people know one's name to make killing harder will save me?

"Fine. On your guard, Nettle," he says, even firmer. He narrows his eyes.

Ok, maybe if diplomacy failed then economics might work better? Though, what do I have to bribe him with that won't involve having to hand over my weapons?

"I have food," I offer him. "Fruit, meat and I even have some water. I could give you some if you leave."

"I appreciate it," he says. Dammit, he's not backing down. "But I can have all of it if you're eliminated, and I like my chances of winning a fight against you. Bigger size and better weapon, you see."

Ok, that does it for economics. Uh... I guess warfare will have to do, then. Of course, it's not like I can just go over there and swing the hatchet at him. Not without getting killed in the process!

"Ok, let it not be said I didn't try to work out a deal," I say, getting into a battle stance of my own. "ARRRGGH! MUTT!"

Rammy is distracted by my yell for the briefest of moments. He realises his mistake no sooner than the instant he glances away. I throw a knife at him - one of those I took from Clove - and rush right at him. The knife missed but achieved the effect of startling him, enough for me to close in and throw my whole body weight at him.

I should have known that my tiny frame wouldn't be able to do much to him. He's on the ground in a moment, but quickly throws me right off of him. I can only spit out some dirt, grab my fallen hatchet and, extra important to me now, Rammy's length of rope.

"Get back here!" he yells. "Don't flee a fight you've started just 'cause you don't think you can win anymore!"

"Technically, you started it!" is my retort to him. He's gaining on me fast, certainly faster than the speed I'm going at.

I cannot overpower him or outrun him, but perhaps I can out _think_ him? The human mind can be as dangerous as a sword if not moreso. After all, unlike a metal blade, the mind can adapt. Right now, I need to get him to either stop chasing me or knock him over in the next few seconds; I need a plan of action, right here and right now!

Hmmmm... aha! Oh, thank heavens that I have that good old rudimentary knowledge of the laws of physics, especially motion and force.

I duck down in an instant, slowing myself. Rammy makes some kind of an alarmed sound as he trips right over me, crashing down into the dirt. I feel a jolt of soreness from the force of him tumbling over me, but it's not enough to stop me from getting back up and running to a nearby tree. Another of the small, thin kind but perhaps heavy enough to get rid of him.

Part of me hopes it misses though; I don't want another extinguished life on my conscious. But it's him or me. I can't help finding it frightening, haunting even, how easily I've stepped into fight mode. I guess the human desire to survive can be formidable when triggered in extreme situations.

Rammy is back on his feet right as I swing at the tree hard and fast. He curses in alarm, dashing to the side as the smaller tree falls. He grips his axe two-handed, looking at me in complete focus.

"Had enough?" I ask him, backing away. "We can end this, here and now. Walk away and risk both our lives. I'll even return your rope."

"You're a fighter. I can respect a fierce will to survive," he says, taking a few breathes. "But I don't want fighters to stay here. Not people who can kill me. Come on!"

The rain begins to fall once again, no doubt added by the Gamemakers for a bit of extra flair. Their idea of fine drama and my own view on the matter are worlds apart. Rammy and I circle each other, neither of us exactly injured yet but sweat is dripping down our faces. That, and lots of rainwater.

He runs at me in an instant, and I'm taken off guard without a plan. I try to swing my hatchet, but everything goes blank for a moment when pain explodes throughout my nose and the rest of my head. For a moment I feel weightless. The moment passes when I crash upon the ground. Putting my hand to my nose, I feel blood. I'm sobbing, I just cannot help it. It hurts! It hurts!

Rammy takes a few breathes, grabbing up his axe. My blood runs cold as ice. But I cannot panic; so long as I'm alive and the axe isn't buried into my neck, there is still a chance. Even if it's tiny, I still have a chance.

My hatchet lays just out of range. Just to be safe, Rammy makes sure to kick it further away. He's not taking any chances, not after the trouble I have caused him. But he overlooked a rather crucial detail when he bloodied my nose and threw me down.

He forget to make certain that I am not carrying knives and, as it happens, I am!

It's hard to think straight or even reach for the knife in my pocket with any accuracy, but I grab it just as he comes into killing range. He raises up the axe, which practically glimmers under the moonlight.

Now or never!

I lash out the knife as hard as I can manage; admittedly, not very hard. Even so, Rammy yells out as the knife stabs right through his boot and his foot beneath it. I release my grip on the knife and roll away. As Rammy collapses over, the axe comes down with him.

My screams fill the rainy night just as much as Rammy's do. While he writhes around with a knife stabbed through his foot, I'm wailing from the axe wound in my left shoulder. Not as bad as it could be - my arm is still attached - but it hurts!

AAAAYYYYIIIIIII!

I can feel the blood leaking out and staining my clothing badly. The scent of blood won't be easy to get rid of, even with all of the rain. The force of the sharp axe falling down has left a nasty cut behind, both in my clothes and my flesh. I can only hope what medical gear I have will be enough to fix it up, or maybe just keep it from being too much of a problem.

After all, I know that I cannot rely on Johanna for any sort of sponsor aid. Even if money was sent in, would she sent me something? I'm not entirely sure if she would.

"Holy fuck!" Rammy yells, trying to keep himself stable. "Nrrgghhhhh! C'mon Rammy, hold it together, get it out..."

I can see Rammy's about to yank the knife out. Not only will the thing slowing him down be gone, but he'll have a new weapon to kill me with as well. Time to move on and move out, never to come back. Not while Rammy is in the area.

I don't bother trying to attack him; in my current state I'd not pose him much of a threat and he might take the chance to throw me down again. He'd not make the same mistake twice. I grab up my hatchet, the rope and flee for my life. I have no idea where I am going; I just pick a random direction and flee into the darkness.

I glance over my shoulder just before I start to run down a hill. Rammy yanks the knife out of his foot, and for a moment all is silent.

His scream is surely something that can be heard for miles.

Nuts, he's already getting back up!

Sprinting down the damp, muddy hill I can see a hollow log. Not much, but it's better than leaving myself in the open where he'd find me and start the whole process over again. I practically skid over to it and crawl my way inside. It's dark, smells horrible and some bugs are crawling around... yet, I'm small enough to slot myself fully inside. I lay still, not moving a muscle.

Outside Rammy comes by, his pained grunts oh so close. I hold my breath as he looms near, no doubt looking all around for where I have gotten off to. It's truly a testament to his strength that he's walking at all and not screaming anymore. Truly, one of the biggest dangers to me in these Games.

My heart almost stops as Rammy sits on the log. He can't even be a few inches from me. Nuts! This is just like when he killed Weld, except now he knows I'm nearby and I'm injured. It's the ultimate struggle, holding back the tears and forcing myself to breath slow and quiet. I hear him take something from his own bag. I'm not sure what it is, but moments later I hear Rammy groaning followed by a short sigh of relief. Must be some form of medicine.

"This is exhausting," he groans, his voice wavering. "Painful, tiring, all the rest of it and it's only the start of day four. Too much to ask this can all be done by tomorrow? Not unheard of for a Hunger Games to last five days."

He pauses, just sitting quietly for a few moments. Sitting _directly above me_ , that is.

"Guess she got away. Smart lady," he says, rising up to his feet. "I'll see her again, or maybe that wound will be infected. Either way... eleven to go, better get to it. The livestock ain't gonna slaughter themselves."

I hear his footsteps starting to become distant, very gradually. All the while, I remain hidden and too afraid to move. The urge to sob from the wound is getting horribly hard to resist.

"Livestock, not people. Meat, not people. Strangers, not friends," I hear him telling himself, notably forcefully. I guess it's a mantra of sorts, one that'll make it easier for him to end our lives come the time.

He's gone, and not a moment too soon. Only now do I let myself cry, a hand desperately clutching the bleeding area of my shoulder. I need bandages or some form of medical care, now! No family doctor here to help me now, so it's all coming down to if I've got the right supplies. I can't help fearing what'd happen if I do not.

I crawl out of he log and sprint as fast as I can in the exact opposite direction that Rammy headed off. It's hard to make fast progress with how I'm slowed down from the pain of the wound, reduced to a hobbling sort of light jogging, but I force myself to keep on going no matter what. I refuse to allow myself to stop until I finally skin down a slope and almost crash over into a flower filled grove.

My shoulder feels damp with blood right now. I force myself to press the wound to keep the sticky, messy blood inside me where it belongs. I's a struggle to yank off my backpack one handed, but I managed to get it done and search through the medical supplies. I gulp some painkillers and find a first aid spray. I've heard of these things; father says they can bring you back from the brink of death. I don't know how true that really is, but I sure hope he was accurate when he said that.

 _ **ARRRRGGGHHHH**_!

I grimace, heaving deep breaths as I bite my fist. That... was not nice... owwwww... but with the initial flair of pain gone I can feel the wound starting to feel a little better. Still bleeding and stinging, but at least not quite as badly.

For the next few minutes I fumble around in the dark grove, trying to bandage the wound. Of course, to do that I have to take off my jacket and shirt to even reach the wound - makes no sense to bandage the outside of my clothes, right? - and that's not easy to do through the pain and the sticky mess. The scent of blood is everywhere. I wipe it away as best I can and try to put on the bandage. Not a great job, but it's gonna have to be enough. It just has to.

The cold night has my teeth chattering in mere moments and I'm swift with getting my shirt and jacket back on. Looking around, I pick out a random direction and keep moving. I'm certain Rammy isn't in this direction and right now that's the main thing on my mind.

I gained some rope, and I took one hell of a wound to the shoulder. The former was _not_ worth the latter, but I won't continue letting them see my cry. I wipe my tears away and put on what I hope looks like a warrior face.

"Not a problem," I hiss out. "A little thing like this won't stop me. I _laugh_ at the attempt upon my life, what little of an attempt it was."

I must be coming off as a totally smug bitch, but if it keeps the sponsor's eyes on me then so be it. I've already killed a girl, what does reputation matter at this point? Quite simply, it doesn't.

But as I march along, I cannot help but recall something I learnt from Rammy, something rather vital.

He wasn't the one who killed Rue, and I don't see why he'd lie over it when he seemed so sure he could kill me. If it wasn't him then who else was it, exactly? Though, does it matter when most of those left are bigger than I am?

Maybe they're still in the area!

I run onwards once again, and I don't let myself stop. I refuse to stop for a rest even once!

Though, my body makes the choice for me. Stumping along weakly I eventually fall over into a large bush. Everything goes dark after a few moments, sleep claiming me from the waking world once more...

* * *

 **(Time goes by...)**

* * *

Morning light reaches my eyes as wake up, letting out a cry from the blinding rays. It's only a moment before my eyes adjust and I start looking around me. I'm laying back in a bush, like I'd fallen right into it - and thinking about it, that's exactly what happened - and it seems like a sunny day. Only thin rainclouds that don't stop the sunshine. Although, this has me gagging as the swamp odour hits my nostrils.

Ewwwwwww! Ick! Yuck, yuck, yuck!

I gag, coughing as bit as I writhe around in the bush. Somebody get the swamp smell away from me! It's gross!

Fortunately, or perhaps not so much really, the pain from the axe wound quickly distracts me from the smell. The wound isn't bleeding anymore, but it's certainly sore and full of searing discomfort. I can only hope that I patched it up properly. If I lose the use of one of my arms then, in a word, I am fucked.

It's about this time that I realise that I'm not alone. Standing over me, a little taken aback that I just woke up now of all times, is Katniss. The girl on fire, herself. Though, her flame certainly appears to be doused now. She's looking wet, grumpy and certainly not anything like she seemed at the interviews. Then again, most of us had to force a smile of some sort.

"Hello Katniss," I say, trying to sit up. I fail, falling backwards into the bush again. Nuts, not a good impression.

I don't miss the knife in her hand.

"Hi..." she says, slowly. She's analysing me, no doubt sizing up if I'm a threat or not. If she gets a good look at my shoulder then she'll know I'm not. Of cruse, that'd make me one easy tribute to stab. "Are you stuck?"

"Of course not," I say, huffing. I'm actually not sure if I am or not, but there's no way I would tell her if I was. "I just had no better places to spend the night."

Katniss idly points to a cave nearby. I must have missed it when I was running along, scared and exhausted out of my mind. I bet the nation is laughing at me right now, or at least the Capitol probably is. Seven too, perhaps.

"There was a snake in there, and I didn't want to risk getting too close," I say, shrugging. I try to scramble up to my feet. "Anyway, my name is Nettle. Nice to meet you face to face Katniss."

"Is it really?" she asks me. "I scored an eleven, outshone you all... we've never even spoken before now. I also have a knife. How is it a good thing to be meeting me?"

I cross my arms. I make sure that she won't miss the hatchet I've got in my hand. It seems like a few drops of my blood have gotten onto it... but you know what, if Katniss thinks the blood belongs to somebody else then who would I be to stop her? If I can use words and subtle actions to make myself appear as somebody to avoid, it would only help.

"I don't particular like being alone," is my answer. A bit of a lie, but she doesn't need to know that. "Perhaps our morning might go better if we work as a team?"

She gives me one hell of a guarded look. Firm, intimidating and one big fire in her eyes. I daresay that diplomacy is not going to be easy when it comes to the girl on fire. Although, she's not attacking me yet... so, I have a chance to end this better than things went with Rammy.

"Seriously, there are crocodile mutts in the water," I warn her. "Rammy - boy from Ten - was also in the area last night. He has a big axe. I only just fended him off."

Again, a lie, but she has no way of disproving what I am saying. That is... unless she was in the area as well. Nuts! Though, I cannot say that I believe Katniss was the one who killed Rue. I think I saw Katniss look at her fondly a few times back in training. Quite unlike the Careers. Still, the more I lie like this the more confident I find myself becoming in my words.

Father told me growing up that a leader's biggest weapon isn't his staff, guns or army but the words he uses. After all, he needs words to have the former three in almost all circumstances. I have no army, or staff or even a small pistol... but, maybe if I don't tell too many risky lies I could talk my way to a better position as the days go by. Perhaps misdirect people off the trail.

Many of the most powerful people in Panem and from before it relied on their words. Even President Snow himself does. So then, if being 'weak' is what has gotten me stuck with a lack of aid, then using the right words may be the one thing I can do to get me where I need to be.

Home.

Though I cannot help but ponder the District motto; axe no questions, tell no lies. The latter part is certainly something I am not adhering too. Then again, this is the Arena. It's no substitute for District Seven.

"Anyway," I say, gaining Katniss' attention back on me. "It's not like we're alone in the area. Rammy's not the only person who has been around here."

Assuming I'm correct that Katniss did not kill Rue and that Rammy was telling the truth as well, then this part isn't a lie. I guess Katniss can see it in my eyes that I'm being honest as she glances around quickly, frowning.

"Who else was near?" she asks me.

"Girl from One. Glimmer," I tell her. I saw her too, so it's not a lie pre-say. I'm just withholding the fact 'near' means 'miles away' in this current situation. "She was alone. But, the other Careers might be nearby. Them and their new addition too."

"Peeta? Yeah, I saw," Katniss frowns, the betrayal in her eyes clear. "Why would he work with them? He told me right before the Games that if we was gonna die, he wanted to still be himself. So... what is his real self? Working with the Careers? The feelings he claimed to have for me?"

I can't help feeling very uncomfortable all of a sudden. I heard what he said, how it was all an act and he was just trying to benefit himself. No doubt telling Katniss this would make her angry. Angry enough to kill? It's a possibility. Then again, it also makes her anger become focused upon Peeta. So much that she might forget me as a target.

"You know something," Katniss says. She takes a small step forwards, right as I take a step back. "What do you know?"

Any tiny desire I may have had to remain silent is gone the instant I glance at that knife of hers. Sharp, serrated... not something I want stuck in my gut.

"At the Bloodbath I faked being dead. I tripped, and then just lay there for hours. The Career didn't know I was alive," I say, starting to pace around. "Off-topic for a moment, is the Cornucopia even above water right now? Because if not-."

"Stay on topic," Katniss says, her eyes aflame. The fact she has that look and doesn't even raise her voice... brrrrr, creepy. "What do you know about Peeta?"

"He came back a while after the dust settled," I say, quickly and more than a tad fearfully. "He pledged his allegiance to the Careers. He mentioned how he faked everything he said and just wanted extra sponsors for himself. Peeta even said he knew how you 'act and think', and that he knows your snares, tracks and where you'd go in a forest. The Careers didn't seem to trust him much, but now that Clove's dead he just become more valuable to them... they need numbers, plain and simple."

Katniss' face is turning red, much like the shade of the tomatoes I love having in salads back home. It's honestly a scary sight, but fortunately for me I'm not the target of her anger right now. No, there's one boy and one boy only who she has angry eyes for. Peeta Mellark, the rat from Twelve.

"If you want a further pointer, that way leads to dry land," I tell her, pointing over-yonder to where I was last night. "No chance of drowning, yet, but you might have to contend with Rammy if he's in the area."

"I'll take my chances going this way," she says, backing away from me. Her eyes don't leave me for even a moment. "...Thanks for telling me about all of this. That lying, _rotten_... I'll deal with it."

She continues to back away, looking ready to start sprinting at any moment.

"Heads up," she tells me. "There have been Mud Mutts in the area. Be careful."

Wait, what?! I don't get a chance to press her for more details though She's already speeding off over a hill, ignoring my yells for more information. Yep... she's gone.

Great. Just great. Deep water, foul smells, crocodiles... and now literal Mud Mutts. The very thought has my skin crawling and shiver sent right up my spine. As disgusting as they are sure to be lethal, so... extremely. I sure hope I shan't be seeing one of them any time soon.

Well, I'm alone once again. As many a Hunger Games viewer, be they Capitol or District, could tell you... staying in one place all alone for too long is rarely a good idea. I set off in a direction separate from both Katniss and the area Rammy was lurking around last night. I have no idea where I'm going, but with luck perhaps it'll be forwards?

I just pray to the tree gods it won't be forwards to my death.

"Focus Nettle, focus," I tell myself, firm. "Just concentrate on yourself and on gathering some supplies to make a boat."

I squeal, cheering when I hear a sonar coming down towards me. Yes! Yes! Finally, somebody has been impressed by me and paid out for my extended life. Not a moment too soon. I'm quickly jogging towards the parachute as it comes down.

Seeing only a note attached to it I slow my run to a more sulky walk until the parachute is low enough for me to grab the note.

 _-Tribute_

 _Why didn't you throw the hatchet at her when her back was turned? It'd be an easy kill. Take every opportunity you get._

 _Johanna-_

"Oh, so _**now**_ you're starting to give me some advice on what to do?" I ask to the sky. "Maybe you could've tried doing that before I got put in here? I'm learning all of this on an hour by hour basic Johanna; if you have a problem you should've actually been a halfway decent mentor you tree schmuck!"

I'm only walking for half a minute before another parachute containing a note descends towards me.

 _-Walking corpse_

 _Bite me._

 _Johanna.-_

"Nice try, but the last time a tribute committed cannibalism he got killed by an avalanche," I say, dry as can be.

I might be many things, but a female Titus is certainly not among them. Certainly not.

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

It feels good having found some dry land at last, as I've not seen any of the flooded lakes that were once forests in some time now. It's still damp, of course, but there odds of drowning around here are an ever so nice zero. With the dull sunshine, crisp morning air and the gentle bird calls above the trees it could almost be considering a typical sort of morning in District Seven.

The scent of blood from my shoulder wound shatters the hopeful illusion.

It's a hilltop that I stand upon, one wide and steep. From here I have a great view of the surrounding area. Just a big field, really. Tall grass, a few fallen trees and a big patch of mud nearby to where I am standing. Nothing special really; a good place to rest for a few minutes and catch my breathe.

I sit down, using my backpack as a cushion of sorts. Munching on some meat and drinking water I think over what my next plan will be. I'm nowhere near water now, so a boat will not really be something I should spend time making. The rain's still stopped, for now, so it won't flood into this area for a while.

I had wanted to find Wood, but he could be anywhere right now. I have no idea what his strategy for these Games was going to be. I don't really know him at all; just that he's seventeen, has 5-1 odds, scored an 8, has a knack for spears and is pretty decent with building structures, or so he claimed. Good things for an ally, and he does have a lot of District Pride... but now it's day four and half of us are dead. Would the chance of being allies even be open anymore? Honestly, this year very few people outside the Careers seemed receptive to alliances.

Just my luck, really.

...Looking at the clouds, I just know the rain is gonna be back soon enough. Maybe the best plan would be to make it to the highest point of the Arena and set up some kind of a fortress. Then either hope nobody can reach me before the water claims them, or... pick them off when I have the high-ground.

I'm not an experienced builder, but no better time to start. Looking around, I can see that the high-ground lays beyond the open field in front of me. Just a jog across it and into those trees, and then miles beyond will be my destination. My legs feel less bothered by al the walking and running now, a surefire sign I am getting stronger, so I honestly feel ready for the trek.

I've not taken four steps before I freeze and duck down as low as I can. I'm not out of sight, but maybe if _they_ do not look this way then I will be left alone.

The Career boys are charging through the clearing, laughing and cheering. Their howls of delight are ferocious and certainly fearsome. I don't move a muscle as I watch Marvel and Cato run by. Peeta bring up the rear, silent but nonetheless keeping pace. I can't help narrow my eyes at him, the boy who faked love and sold out his District Partner. For _**shame**_ , Peeta Mellark...

I feel sick, but it's not due to the Careers running by. Rather, it's from what they are surely about to do. They're not alone in their run after all. One of the younger tributes is fleeing for her life from them, but it seems the boys are closing in on her. Based on the colour of her jacket, she's the girl from Eight. What was her name again? Lace? Something like that, I am sure of it.

"Go away! Go away! Go away!" she yells.

"Like the first thousand times, the answer is no!" Cato yells, looking just as smug as he is strong. "Time to die Eight!"

"Save some for me Cato!" Marvel adds, looking even more excited. "I take her left side, you take her right?"

"Sounds fair," Cato says. "Keep up Twelve!"

Peeta says nothing. From here, I just see him give a quick nod and speed up. It certainly will not be long until Lace is caught and butchered. She's only thirteen at the most, this is wrong!

Yet, what right do I have to speak out against this? I'm not gonna save her; facing off against two careers and another boy stronger than I am is a suicide move. I can only stay still.

Actually, I'll just leave. There's no reason for me to stay here. I'll leave, wait for the cannon, give them half an hour to move on and then get back on my way through the area.

"How about this?" I hear Marvel taunt the poor girl. "Toss us all your gear and we'll let you have a half minute head start over us before we continue. You'll live a bit longer that way; that ok curly? Ha!"

"As a matter of fact... it isn't!" Lace, I think, yells. For being in such a terrifying chase, she still has it in her to be almost... sassy.

The smack that sounds through the area has me quickly look back to see what just happened.

Cato laughs, clapping his hands while Peeta is still silent. Seems like Lace just threw a packet of some kind of food right at Marvel's face, and with quite some force too.

"Aaarrrrggghhh!" the boy from One yells, whether from pain or anger though it's hard to tell.

"Aha! I curse Panemese fish on you!" Lace yells, quickly scampering off once more.

Marvel hurls the packet aside. I cannot quite see his expression over here, but if I had to guess... his eyes would be flaming in anger.

"Oh, you'll _pay_ for that Eight!" he yells, ready to take aim with his spear at the retreating youth from Eight.

He throws the spear. It seems unlucky at first that Lace trips, but as the spear sails over her and pins into the dirt it seems that perhaps it was good luck after all. She yanks the spear from the dirt and continues to flee. By now Cato is doubling over in laugher. Surely he'd be screaming if he missed a kill like that, but to see another Career be embarrassed and then miss seems to be his idea of a good show. It's true, schadenfreude is said to be one of the greatest sources of amusement. Indeed, I have to put a hand over my mouth to stop the giggles as I turn to leave.

That's when I see I am very much not alone.

Nuts!

I don't know when it happened or how I was so foolish to not hear the damn thing coming, but lurching out of the mud pit and starting to loom over me is a beats I can only describe as some sort of thing! It's hideous! A blob man of sorts, mud all over it and two featureless limbs that end in solid muddy spheres.

What was it Katniss said? Mud Mutts! And this must be one of them... no, no, no! Dirty, ferocious and rancid all in one horrific, muddy combination. A true nightmare!

I'm outta here! I'm not letting this thing touch me; whether I get covered in mud or blood it's all horrible!

The monster roars a horrible, guttural groan out that surely can be heard for miles. It sounds just like somebody choking on mud.

"Look! There she is!" oh _**nuts**_...

One look tells me all I need to know. The Careers and Peeta are making their way over to me right now. Their yells have distracted the Mud Mutt for a few moments, and I waste no time turning around to run away.

I'm not afraid to fight. I'm _not_. But there's a time to fight, and there is a time to run away. Right now, this is one of the latter times. Fight smarter, not harder.

I'm making fast progress towards a large area of waist high grass. If i can just jump in there before the Careers make it past the Mud Mutt then I could hide silently until they're gone. I force myself to run faster than I ever have in my life.

"Don't worry Ranger, they're not going to catch me," I say as I sprint along, feeling the air against my face. "I'll hide, just like when we played hide and seek as kids. Remember when I hid in that bush and nobody could find me because I was so small? I'll do that now. I'll come home, and we'll make more memories."

I hope he is watching and heard that. Having somebody who loves you and would cheer you on all the way certainly makes it easier to maintain hope and rational thought in this kind of an extreme situation.

The monster howls in agony, a thud echoing a moment later. I can hear Cato's cheers of triumph at what must have been his kill. I hear running, but none of the usual shouts and jeers that the Careers are known for. I'm almost there! Just a quick dive right into the grass and I'll be safe, for now. Just a few more-ACK!

I'm sent crashing to the ground with force, enough to blur my vision for a few moments. I see stars, and after somebody bashes my head against the ground twice I see a whole lot more of them. I scream and shout, squirming around and trying to hit back at whoever is upon me. A punch to my spine has me reduced to a quiet whimper.

The slap to my posterior has me elevated to a horrified screech, thrashing about. As I swing my fist back I feel it connect with something, or rather someone. The pained yell is music to my ears, though it's not worth the additional punch to my back. I yell as I'm suddenly grabbed and held upside-down, thrown over to the ground in a daze upon my side.

Looking up I see Marvel looking down at me, smirking. I cannot miss the sadistic glee in his eyes, nor how satisfied he is now that he has me at his knees. The anger is also unable to be overlooked, nor is the bruise on his cheek where I must have punched him. Walking up beside him are Cato and Peeta. Cato crosses his arms - much more muscular and frightening up close - and gives me a cold smirk. Peeta just looks at me, his gaze not betraying any sort of emotion.

I look up at them, trying to not show any fear. If they think I'm fearless, maybe they'll hear me out. They have no idea it was me that killed Clove. As long as they do not know this, they _might_ be able to be reasoned with.

"You lost, Seven?" Marvel asks, cocky. "This is the woods where danger lurks, not your fancy house."

"Mind explaining why you got rid of all our best stuff?" Cato asks, scowling. "Yeah, nice trick and all, but not so great when it fucks over the early days for us. You're either incredibly brave, or very foolish to try a stunt like that. I'd almost respect your raw nerve if you hadn't gotten rid of my swords and a lot of meat."

The Career boys step closer, eyes alight like predators. Peeta just stand silent as ever. I give him a look, but he avoids my eyes.

"I just did the best thing for me in the situation I was in," I say, fighting with all I've got to keep my voice steady. "You don't know how to forage for food, so I tried to... make the odds in my favour."

How can I get out of this?! I frantically think over options Fighting is impossible, I cannot run, any bribe would fail as they can just take my stuff if they kill me which would be easy for them... I'll have to try diplomacy once again.

I look Marvel in the eye as he walks right up to me, barely a foot away from me.

"We can negotiate," I offer.

Pain explodes throughout my as Marvel's foot swings at my head. Everything soon becomes distant, silent and... very... dark...

...

* * *

 **(Time passes...)**

* * *

Throbbing.

My head...

Everything is dark, the blurry kind of darkness specifically. Like I can see something yet nothing. I feel so achy and... and I cannot move. I'm stuck! I freeze, remembering what happened when I was last awake.

I got caught my the Careers. I recall Marvel knocked me out with a foot to my head.

I'm alive. Somehow, they didn't kill me. Ok, there's a still a chance then, so long as I remain alive in this world. Though, what's going on? How am I going to make it out of this mess, whatever the mess actually is.

I keep myself completely still, laid over upon my side. The ground is damp, probably mud, and smells rancid. But I'll take that over being dead any day. I can also tell that I am not alone right now. I can hear voices and some footsteps moving around nearby, though mercifully they're further away than just a few inches. Maybe they won't strike me if they think I am still knocked out.

I discreetly flick a finger to whatever is binding me, trying to figure out what it is in the nanosecond I allow for myself. The lack of yelling shows they didn't notice this, but also the touch has my heart sinking. I know what this is.

Rope.

They must have tied me up with the rope that I stole from Rammy! Of all the cruel, twisted, ironic... ok, how am I going to get out of this. Think, Nettle, think. Think, and listen. _Learn_.

"So, she's not back yet?" I hear Marvel say.

"Nope. Must be stuck out there because of all the floods. Can Glimmer even swim?" Cato asks, sounding unsure either way.

"Of course she can. We had a few dates at the solid gold lake when we used to date," Marvel says, sounding annoyed. "She's not that weak, man."

"I never said she was," Cato grunts. "I just... wait, hang on, what the fuck? Solid gold lake?"

"It's a great tourism spot," Marvel says. I can practically _hear_ the smug grin he must have on his face. "It's Marvellous."

"Goddammit Marvel!" Cato snaps, groaning. I'll agree with Cato on this one, the pun was ever s stupid. "Anyway, Glimmer's probably going to be fine. At least _your_ partner is still alive. I didn't even get to say goodbye to Clove before some freak killed her."

I hear the pain in Cato's voice. If you ask me, I think he cared about Clove a bit more than he wanted to publicly admit. I'm sure he'd be _**very**_ willing to avenge her, so my lips are sealed on the fact I killed her.

"I'm sorry to hear it man," Marvel says. "She was cool."

"Yeah, she really was," Cato agrees, wistful.

I dare to take the risk of opening my eyes even if just for a moment. In the few moments I allow for myself to observe the area before I close them again one thing is clear above all else. I am in deep shit right now. More deep than the water that floods the Arena...

Not only am I tied up, but I'm now prisoner in the main camp of the Careers. I'm laid on my side in the mud which in itself is bad enough, but a hoard of supplies are placed in a big pile nearby. They have been laid upon a sort of inflatable raft, perhaps to stop them being lost if the water rises or to make transporting them easy - they must have been moved already at least once, as we're not at the Cornucopia. Maybe it's underwater by now?.

Where there is Career camp, there will also be Careers. My heart pounds. In the few moments of sight I allowed myself, I saw that Marvel and Cato are quite close to me. They sit on two crates nearby, Cato with a sword in hand and Marvel much the same except with a spear. Peeta stood nearby with a spear of his own, saying nothing. It's almost as if he hates the company of those he is allied with.

My sympathy is none, Peeta! It was your choice to sell out Katniss and join these guys.

But the worst thing? My supplies are gone! The backpack of them is right near where Marvel is sitting, and so is my hatchet and knives. I'm unarmed and without any gear!

Well, actually, I can feel myself laying upon a small object in my pocket. Clove's token, I think. Oh my goodness, if Cato had seen I had it on me, surely he'd have put two and two together...

I try not to scream.

"So, why haven't we killed her yet?" Cato asks. "I hate that rich bitch too, but it feels awkward to just have her there and not kill her or use her for something."

"What would she even do?" Marvel replies.

"I don't know, chop firewood maybe?" Cato responds. I bet he just shrugged. "Why wait until she's awake?"

"Because we're gonna torture her," Marvel says, matter-of-factly.

I almost piss myself.

Torture.

A drawn out, grisly death of many cuts and removed fingers or toes over hours. A death method first made popular by Mascara, Victor of the Forty First Hunger Games, so says father. It was the Sevens that year who she first got her hands on...

Fuck!

Ok, tied up, Careers over there and my supplies are too... there's gotta be a way out of this. Come on Nettle, think...

"Sounds fun and all, but why bother? She's not even that important to the narrative of the Games this year. It'd be a waste," Cato states, skeptical. "Leave it for Katniss."

"We can do that too," Marvel assures him. "But I promised her I'd cut her up, and I keep my promises. Besides, bro, she threw loads of our stuff into the lake. I want some payback on that. The audience would love it."

"Fair enough," Cato replies. "Have her to yourself, so long as I get one stab in. But Katniss is _mine_."

"Be my guest," Marvel says. "You talk about her a lot y'know. Why, one could even say you have a marvellous crush on her."

"Oh piss off," Cato scoffs. "You're the one who said she had nice hair."

"Doesn't mean I like her," Marvel replies. He chuckles for a moment. "Honestly, real talk, I found Tamora attractive. She was hot."

"You have a strange taste in woman," Cato says, lost. "She was tiny as that one over there, and kinda hefty."

"Eh, I thought she was marvellous," Marvel snickers. "Not enough to distract me from winning, but... well, I'm a man and all that."

"Allegedly," Cato snorts. "Ok, we've gotten sidetracked enough, might as well get started. Twelve."

"Yeah?" Peeta asks. Hmm, for a few moments I forgot he was there.

"Wake her up," Cato tells him. "Slap her across the face or something."

"Why can't you just stab her while she's out of it?" Peeta asks. He sounds very uncomfortable. "Same end result, efficient and... honesty, torture just isn't my style."

I hear the sound of a punch and Peeta grunting.

"Get to it!" Cato barks.

"Easy there Cato," Marvel says. "He's an Outlier. Not really like you can expect him to have the same mindset for the Arena."

"I guess. Still pisses me off that he won't take it seriously," Cato mutters.

"Oh, same. Just saying you can't expect a Twelve of all tributes to have the same tactics as a One or Two," Marvel says. "Better him than a Seven though."

I'd rather not get slapped. Needless pain since I'm going to have to 'wake up' either way at this point. I put on a little show of stirring and groaning, opening up my eyes. Peeta had been a few feet away from me, readying himself for the hit. I can tell he'd not have enjoyed it.

"Where am I?" I ask, before forcing my eyes to widen. "AAAARGGHHH! No! No! Get away from me! Help me, help!"

Now I can get a better look of the place as I frantically glance around. Cato and Marvel rise, moving closer with matching smirks. Seems that we're in a glade in the forest, possibly the only clearing for quite a distance. Plenty of thick trees that I could run for and hide in. I'm not expert climber, but under pressure I'm sure I could force myself to do it.

But the fact is, I am tied up. I doubt they'd untie me to make it 'moire interesting'. They're arrogant, but not stupid. Then again, they didn't bother to count the number of bodies to the number of cannons which indirectly led to Clove's death at my hands.

I try to keep myself together as Marvel walks up, looking me in the eye.

"Hi," he says, smirking.

"...Hi?" I respond, unsure where this is heading.

I need to keep him talking. I'm running out of time! The second he becomes bored, I'll die because that's when the torture starts.

Come on, think Nettle! Use your words, you them better than you ever have before!

"Must be nice having both yourself and Glimmer in the top half," I say after a moment. "Seems like a good year for One."

"It's gonna be our year," Marvel says proudly. "I'm sure Seven will like having one of their tributes in the top eleven. The male, that is."

He leers, taking a kukri knife from his pocket. Shit, it's got blood on it already. More talking, now!

"So, you're gonna kill me?" I say, trying to be calm. I fail.

"And cut you," he says.

"Gives the audience a show to enjoy," Cato says from his spot a few steps back from Marvel.

"I've seen torture, it's nothing to smile about," I say, shivering. I imagine horrible things like mud, grime, slugs and slime to make myself feel like being sick. "It's horrible."

Seems like my forced sickliness worked as Cato seems curious now.

" _You_ have seen _torture_?" he asks me. "Oh, this I gotta hear. What kind of torture? Stubbing a toe at home? Seeing lumberjacks get splinters?"

"No, worse... and more recent," I say, gulping. I imagine the thought of Marvel cutting off my fingers, slowly and painfully, to get myself suitable horrified. "I saw Clove die."

Cato is deadly silent. He storms forwards and drops down to his knees, looking me in the eyes.

"Tell me how he died," he says in a deadly whisper. "Who did it? _**Tell me, now**_."

"It was Rammy," I choke out. "He... he... he cut off all her limbs with an axe!"

I again think of all kinds of bugs and grime, making myself so sick I puke.

"It was horrific," I shiver. "He almost got me too when I tried to flee the area, hence my shoulder wound. He's one beast of a boy."

I bet District Ten must hate me for the lies I'm telling right now, especially Rammy's family. He's killed, but he doesn't seem the kind who would torture somebody... I think? I don't know him, actually, so can I say so for certain? Indeed not. I can't regret it though, not when it's my only chance. But Cato's face is turning red from what I have said. I... I think he believes me.

"That fucking bastard!" he screams, roaring in frustration. He begins smashing up the crates with his sword, his face red as his jacket "I'll kill him! I'll slaughter him like a pig!"

"Cato, calm down!" Marvel says, turning his attention away from me to stop Cato destroying the camp.

Peeta looks at me and then at the Career boys. He frowns to himself.

"What a mess," I hear him whisper. "Sure hope Katniss is doing better than all this."

...Wait, what? Why would he care about Katniss after selling her out like he did? If he's starting to care, it might be a bit too late for it at this point. Katniss saw him with the Careers after all, and she certainly didn't like what I told her of this boy.

Is he lying about not caring about her, or is he lying even now, whether to himself or the audience? Not only is this a forest of death, but one of many lies.

I quickly struggle against my bindings, but I only succeed in making them ever so slightly looser. So little it's hard to even notice. No weapons lay near me, but as I end up rolling over for a moment I feel something in my boot.

The knife I'd had under my pant leg and near my ankle, it's still there! They must have not checked there. Oh thank heavens, yes! I can use that to cut the ropes, just as long as I can loosen them a little bit more.

I struggle about in the mud, writhing like a bug. I don't free myself before the Careers return, Cato calmer but still very pissed off. My binds are looser though. _Almost_...

"Sorry about that little interruption," Marvel says, giving Cato a look. "Two's, what are they feeding them these days, right?"

"...Food?" I guess.

Marvel actually snickers, finding my answer funny. Cato rolls his eyes, scowling as he crosses his arms. Peeta just looks like he wishes he was anywhere but here. I hear him mutter something to himself, but it's unintelligible from here.

But, that don't know that.

"Cato, Peeta just called you a raging child," I say, meekly.

Cato turns to look at Peeta, coldly. Peeta, meanwhile, gives me a sharp look.

"I didn't say that!" he hisses.

"Then what _did_ you say?" I ask him. "You didn't seem happy with your friends."

"Like I said, torture isn't my thing," he says, his gaze darting between myself and Cato. "It's not something every Career does either. It's no issue."

"He has a point," Marvel shrugs. "More for us, Cato... not that there us much. She's tiny."

"You said you liked Tamora and she was tiny," Cato states.

"She was thicc," Marvel says, smirking goofily.

Cato shakes his head, glancing at me in resignation. But he still seems very angry, quite a ways from being able to calm down. I can use that.

"I saw Katniss earlier today," I say. This much is the truth, by itself.

Marvel and Cato pause.

"I'll make it hurt slightly less if you tell us where," Marvel offers. "This guy, eh, he's not led us right to her just yet."

"Probably miles away by now. But you know, she said she saw Peeta was with you lot," I say, trying to not blink too much. It's a sign of weakness, one I do not wish to give away. "Seems she saw you, and you guys went right past her. Tough break."

"What?!" Cato was angry before, but now he's steaming. "We were so close and... and we missed her?!"

Cato rounds on Peeta, closing the gap between them.

"Mind explaining that?" he asks, frowning. "You said you'd lead her to us, and we missed her. How could you made a mistake like that? Huh?!"

"It's a big forest," Peeta says, firmly. "I've been here for only a few days. It's hard enough to navigate through it, let alone find a specific person really fast. It's also a swamp now, not a plain forest."

"So, you're useless to us?" Cato asks.

I see the flicker of fear in Peeta's eyes. Cato is angry, Peeta is scared, Marvel is looking between them uncertainly... time to drive a wedge in this group. Them or me, and it won't be me!

Take notes Johanna, this is how you play the Games when you cannot use brutality to do the job. I'm not like you, but that doesn't mean I'm helpless.

"She said you guys went right under the tree she was hiding in," I say, struggling a bit. Yes, they're getting a little looser! "Please, let me go!"

Cato growls like a bull at Peeta.

"You idiot," Cato says, deadly serious.

"The water washed away the evidence she was there," Peeta says, taking a step back. "Anybody could've made the mistake."

"We're getting distracted guys," Marvel says, looking annoyed. "We need to deal with his one."

Marvel turns to me, knife in hand. No, no, no! No! I gotta say something else, anything else! Something to light the fuse, right now!

...Of course...

"I guess you all miss Clove, right?" I say, softly.

"Yes," Cato hisses, pain in his voice.

"She was alright," Marvel says. "Didn't know her for long."

As I expected, Peeta remains silent. I guess it's a case of 'say nothing if you have nothing nice to say'. His silence helps me with what'll come next... I sure hope this shaky, improvised plan will work. It all comes down to how irrational Cato will become when he is truly furious.

"Don't you miss her Peeta?" I ask him. "She was one of your allies."

"Yeah, I do... it's very different without her being here," Peeta says.

Peeta stands calm, giving nothing away. Marvel and Cato didn't even look at him, only towards me with their weapons in hand.

Forgive me Twelve. Forgive me Seven. Forgive me mother, in Elysium beyond.

"Why did your eyes flicker like that?" I ask Peeta.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, puzzled.

"No really, your eyes flickered when you said you missed Clove," I continue, narrowing my own eyes. "Didn't you care about her?"

Cato clenches his fists.

"Easy there, big guy," Marvel says, taking a step back. Smart move.

"I only knew her for a few days. She was ok, but I didn't really know her," Peeta states, remaining calm. "Not in the way Cato did."

"Is that why you called her a filthy cow?" I ask him. "You were at camouflage, I was walking past I heard you say as much as to Katniss, back when I'd assumed you two were close. You even pointed her out."

Cato is turning red. The part about Peeta pointing to Clove is true, but Cato doesn't know that Peeta just called her strong. It seems his anger might be getting him to believe my lies.

"I didn't say that! I just called her strong, that's it!" he insists. "How's that a bad thing?"

"You insult her, you cannot even find Katniss like you promised you would..." Cato glowers, gripping his sword. "Why bother wasting time drawing it out for Nettle. Marvel, we don't even need Peeta. Kill him, kill her and we're down to ten where we have supplies and Glimmer as another ally. It'd work fine."

"You're making a mistake," Peeta says, stepping back nervously.

"Cato, calm down," Marvel says, more an order than a suggestion.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Cato barks. "If this guy is useless and spoke badly of Clove, I want him dead!"

"And who was the idiot who let him into the group?" Marvel reminds him, sighing.

"Yeah... who was it Peeta?" I ask him.

"Cato did," Peeta states, giving me a glare. "I'm onto you, you're trying-."

"Cato, he just implied you're an idiot," I say to the raging Career. He really should look into some anger management classes if I die regardless and he ends up as the Victor. It's concerning. "You gonna take that? Would Clove?"

Cato loses it.

With a roar of fury he barrels at Peeta, punching him down and starts to wail on him like a madman. Peeta fights back, swiftly giving Cato a bloody nose, but it's clear he's losing badly right now.

"Cato! Stop it! Jesus Christ, don't make us lose another member of the pack, man! You're killing me here, Cato!" Marvel yells, frantic as he tries to pull Cato off of Peeta. "Stop it!"

...Who is Jesus Christ? I've never heard that name spoken in Seven...

I writhe and struggle, squirming madly. Cato's in a complete and utter fit of rage. It's a great distraction, but not one I can restart once it's over, whether he calms down or Marvel knocks him out. If I am going to escape, it has to be now!

I'm just lucky that I am effective when using my words. I'm also lucky they did not take away the knife by my ankle. It takes a lot of fast wriggling around but the bonds loosen enough for me to reach for the knife. Carefully I hold it between my knees with the blade facing up and start to run my bound hands up and down as fast as my burning muscles will allow. Bit by bit the rope is cut until finally, finally the rope is cut.

As they only used one length of rope it all starts to swiftly come undone and fall away after that big cut. Just as I let it fall Cato howls in greater rage, throwing Marvel off of him and throwing something else behind him. Coming to a stop at my feet is a bottle cap - looking at it, I think this might be from some kind of very cheap brand of beer known as 'Blue Orion', a popular brand in the outermost Districts so I hear. It must be Peeta's token.

I grab it up and run for my life I don't bother running to grab my backpack of supplies from where it is laying, not when the three boys, probably soon to be two, are having a rumble right beside it. I just flee towards the thickest part of the forest outside the clearing, grabbing a random bag from their pile of supplies as I run past it. I've just about made it to the woods when I hear Marvel yelling, furious.

"She's getting away!" he yells "Cato, for the love of Snow, stop being a bastard and help me kill her! Calm down!"

At that last word he chucks some water from a bottle right at Cato, no doubt to make him 'cool off' in a manner of speaking. Just as he does so the cannon fires, and Peeta lays very still on the ground beneath Cato.

The boy with the bread, beaten like dough. A beating I manipulated Cato into committing. Nuts, that's two murders now. Or, one and a half? Cato was the one to do it, so...

Screw it, I don't have time to think about that! I have to run!

The Careers scramble to pick up their weapons, the sword and spear having been dropped during the beat down. I take advantage of this time to put as much distance between myself and them as I can. A glance back, though, shows that it's not as much distance as I would have liked for it to be. They're already on their feet and chasing after me, Peeta's body left abandoned; beaten raw and bloody.

"If you have to kill anybody, kill her!" I hear Marvel yell to Cato.

"With pleasure," Cato replies. "Where you going Seven? Up a tree? You can't run away forever!"

Perhaps I cannot, but I do not intend to run forever. Just for, hopefully, a few minutes before I finally evade these two. I run between trees, through bushes, over logs in the desperate hope it'll get them off my trail. I hear a stumble every now and then but it's never one that can slow them down for more than a few moments. It's not like I end up without moments of stumbling and crashing about either.

The running has my chest burning, and my shoulder is still searing in pain. The agony is coming back. No, not now of all times...

For a moment I ponder the idea of trying to fight them, but I just as quickly forget that idea. With only a knife and a small form against their muscular warrior bodies and their sword and spear combination, I'd be slaughtered in seconds. Actually, saying it'd take seconds is being too generous.

Thunder booms throughout the sky and suddenly another downpour has begun once again. I flinch, trying to bare it. In this situation I feel so powerless.

The sound of Marvel and Cato slipping over, their curses loud and furious, gives me a feeling of hope as I push myself harder to widen the gap.

Before long I'm running wearily, starting to zigzag and shut down from the fatigue. I need food and water, but it's all gone now. I might have something in my bag, but I'm in no position to stop and check what I have with me. Not with the boys still after me.

"Just give up!" Marvel calls to me. "It's not like you really have a chance anyway!"

"Get the fuck over here or I'll rip your arm off!" Cato screams. It seems he's still in a berserk state from the truths and lies I was telling... shit.

I start to descend down a hill, yanking up my hood to keep the rain off of me. My insides feel like ice when I see I've come to a raging river.

The ice within me melts, even if just a little, when I see a fallen log that leads over the river.

Courage, Nettle.

Running to the log as fast as I can - so, not very fast - I get on and start to hobble my way to the other side. I think back to the Seven circus that father took me to when I was six years old, remembering the man who walked on that tightrope. Arms outstretched, legs close together and small steps only.

I stumble more than once, not helped by the fact that Marvel and Cato are closing in on me. The last stumble has me fall off the log, but mercifully I fall upon the other side of the river and not into it.

I know what I have to do now if I want to have any chance. With all of my body feeling ablaze I start to push the log as best as I can. Hard shoves, aggressive kicks and all the strength I have left; everything is put into moving the log. Just as Cato and Marvel run towards the other side of the river I shove the log away from its position and let it be washed away down the rough river. Gagging horribly I stumble myself behind a tree to try and catch my breathe.

After all, Marvel can throw his spears expertly. I'm not going to leave myself without any cover.

"Fuck!" Cato curses, punching a tree. "Urrgh, dammit!"

"You have to come out from there eventually," Marvel says, annoyed but not giving up. "You need food and water. And, when you come out from there... spears can be thrown, your gut is vulnerable.. do the math."

I hack and choke, gasping for air. It's a few minutes before I am able to give them any sort of response. In this time I think Cato has splintered the bark of the tree he's been punching. His fists are strong enough to kill... I guess it's a pointless statement, having seen him prove this on Peeta.

I've always thought of Marvel as my most personal of foes in this Arena, but honestly it might be Cato I need to be the most afraid of right now. He beat Peeta to death so easily, imagine the horrors he could inflict upon me if he were to get me in his grasp. I cough and choke some more just thinking about it.

"You know," I manage to say once I have some semblance of my breath back. "You've left all your supplies unguarded now that Peeta is dead. There are eight other tributes who could be stealing from you right now."

I hear Cato curse and Marvel gasp. It seems this thought has only just occurred to them. I guess they were so dedicated towards killing me that it slipped their minds. Tunnel vision, it's a killer. Potentially, a literal one.

"You got lucky!" Cato barks.

I hear the sounds of fast footsteps running off. I don't move from where I am hiding, but it's obvious that Cato has decided the supplies matter more than killing me and is off to protect them. As furious and violent as he is, he's got good sense in there.

I hear Marvel scoff, highly annoyed.

"He's right, you got lucky. I guess it matches your District's number," he says. "Run and hide for now, but enjoy the reprieve while you can. One way or the other we'll find you gain at some point, and next time we're gonna attack you before you can even talk. The lesson was learnt. So long, rival."

Despite everything that has happened, I cannot help but ask Marvel a question as he begins to leave.

"Rival?" I ask him.

I dare to peak out, seeing him look back at me with an almost dashing sort of smirk.

"It's not just a fight to the death, but also a TV show. We have our places in the narrative," he says, chuckling. "You should be happy. If you have a spot in the 'story', you might live longer. No promises though."

With that, he calls for Cato to wait up for him and runs off after his ally. It's not long before his footsteps have become too distant for me to hear anymore.

I'm all alone now, nothing here besides myself and the rainfall. I just want to pass out from exhaustion right here and now, but to do so when I'm so close to the water would be a fatal move to make. I'd probably drown when the water rises higher.

I force myself up to my feet, one little move at a time, and start to stagger off to... oh, I don't even know where. I'm too tired and freaked out to worry about stuff like basic navigation.

I'm more focused on the fact I just escaped from the Careers' den. They had me tied up and were ready to torture me. Instead, I escaped and thanks to manipulating Cato's rage issues they've now lost another member. The ultimate doom turned into an unlike victory. Though, not the one I desire most of all.

I won't get that lucky a second time.

I only make it maybe a hundred meters, if that, before everything starts to fade away as my knees sway.

"Shit, that was close," I slur.

I collapse.

* * *

 **(Time passes...)**

* * *

It's dark again when I suddenly wake up, instantly aware of the world around me. How long was I passed out!? It... it must have been hours.

Shit, I'm out in the open and anybody could be coming near me. Thunder booms in the dark sky, rain still falling down. Not far from here I can see that the water has risen once again. The way the water is so dark in the limited moonlight, a little glimmer reflecting from it every now and then... it's spooky.

I stand myself up, looking around with my teeth gritted. This is bad, really bad. I'm soaked, hungry, thirsty, almost totally out of supplies... nuts. It's so dark; where do I go now? I can hardly see anything.

"Ok, ok... I can do this," I mutter, slapping myself. I need to force myself to focus. "Shelter, _now_."

Of course, in the darkness of night - especially a stormy night - it's not easy to navigate. I've never been to this part of the Arena before so everything looks so unfamiliar. If I still had the night vision glasses or even a flash-light or torch this would be a lot less terrifying.

My heart pounds as I kneel silently, perfectly still for a few moments.

Of course, the bag I swiped! Maybe it has something in it that I could use to find my way, or at least not feel every so awful. It'll be hard to see what I have though in the darkness, but maybe as my eyes adjust to the darkness I'll be able to sort of make out what I have?

It's a struggle, but in a frantic few seconds I quickly take note of what I managed to grab during my escape. Not counting the knife I had on me or the tokens of some of the dead tributes, this is all I've got now.

A lighter.

A half full bottle of water, made from a shiny and sleek sort of metal.

A single peach.

A plate.

That's it, nothing more than that tiny amount of items. It's all the gear I have from now until... whenever. It's basically nothing to go on. Nonetheless, I gulp down a big mouthful of the water, feeling instant relief. Not much, but... some.

Putting everything besides the lighter way, I flick it on to try and give myself some form of light and warmth in this horrible night.

I can't stop my scream when the lighter reveals the face of somebody almost right beside me.

The curly hair, the goldenrod yellow jacket, the slightly perky look on her face... it's the girl from Eight, no mistake. Lace, I think?

"Eep!" she squeals, quickly stumbling backwards. "I wasn't going to steal your supplies! Especially not the peach! Bye!"

She turns and starts to scramble her way off into the darkness, spear in hand, but my eyes are drawn to the bags of supplies she is carrying. Bags of food and water, maybe medical items too.

I need those, now.

"Hey, wait!" I say, getting up to chase after her.

"No!" she yells.

How ironic it is that I can evade Careers but I cannot catch up to somebody who surely can't be any older than thirteen. The most embarrassing part is how she's a good few inches taller than I am. With her longer legs and how she seems to be a lot more wide awake and alert than I am, she's quickly escaping from me. The fact she hasn't recently woken up after fainting from exhaustion - I mean, I assume she hasn't - no doubt aids her as well.

"Stop! Stop!" I yell, trying to keep up.

It's no use. Squeaking and yelping as she goes, Lace has soon vanished from my view and fled into the night along with all the supplies she had. I slow myself to a walk, and soon enough just lean against a tree.

I punch it.

"Shit," I curse. "...Ok, no time to waste dwelling on that. What can I do instead of that? Always a way..."

I suppose I could try and forage for food off of the forest itself. I think I remember more or less what was poisonous and what was safe. As for water, I have a bottle so I can try to catch the rainwater. It's just wet upon me, not poisonous.

I hear some footsteps in the darkness.

"...Lace... is that you?" I ask, starting to grip my knife. Better to be on the safe, guarded side.

More footsteps, faster ones.

Footsteps that are coming from behind me, not in front where Lace ran off to.

It's somebody else!

I don't call out or try to get a look at the person. I take off running into the darkness in a random direction, trying to get away from whoever this is. One of the Careers? Rammy? I don't care who, I'm out of here!

I dash onwards under the downpour that sprays all over the place. I hear the wet footsteps of the person chasing me down. They're not slipping at all. They must be perfectly balanced when it comes to running through a wet, flooded forest.

Lighting strikes, the crackle filling the sky and the sound making my eardrums throb. It's not enough to stop me from fleeing onwards. I narrow my eyes, a determined look on my face and leap right over a log. I make sure to grab the branch above the log, yanking it forwards before letting go.

I hear a pained yell and some cursing, but the sounds of the storm make it impossible to properly hear the noise and figure out who it is. But they're soon on the move once again, still in pursuit. Nuts!

As lighting strikes again, the Anthem starts to play. I don't spare the Anthem a glance not while I am being chased down as I am. I do spare a thought for Peeta though. He may have betrayed Katniss and sided with a pack of killers to save his own skin, but to be beaten to death with somebody's bare fists... I shudder. A nasty, raw way to die.

It's only once the Anthem ends that I spot a cave nearby. A perfect shelter from the rain, but also it would leave me cornered... but, what choice do I have? They'll see me no matter where I go.

And, I'm so tired...

It's all or nothing.

I run into the cave and soon turn to face my pursuer, knife in hand. One stab, that's all it'll really take. A stab to the throat... I swallow my dry spit, trying not to sicken myself from the thought. The time for words and manipulation is over. The time for action has arrived.

I breath fast and deep as the figure approaches me. They're only a silhouette from here, but one that I can see is holding a spear. Step by step, they approach me.

"Gee Nettle, you run fast, you know that?"

I pause, lowering my knife.

Out from the storm and into the cave walks my District Partner, Wood. He looks soaked like me, has a scar on his cheek he didn't have before the Games began and, most notably, he has a big backpack full of supplies.

Actually, no, the most notable thing I can see is that he has a spear and it's got some dried blood on it. He's taken at least one life.

"Good to see you're still hanging around," he says, chuckling. "You know, I thought you were fucked on day one. Like, fucked raw. I saw you laying there and thought to myself 'she's as dead as Pliny and Fir are' but it seems you made it out... somehow?"

"I wasn't really dead," I tell him. "Faked it."

Wood bops himself on the forehead, rolling his eyes.

"Well, why the fuck didn't I work that one out? Here I was thinking you performed some sort of ritual to give yourself a second chance or some shit," he says, leaning against the wall of the cave. "Your reason makes more sense. Anyway, killed somebody yet?"

Now I remember why I never exactly spoke to Wood a bunch at the training centre - a mistake in retrospect. He's kind of... crazy.

"...Yes," is my answer. "I don't want to talk about it."

"No fun. I was gonna go into detail about my kills and all. But, very well, guess we can put a pin in it. Or, I guess a spear. Thus spear was my murder weapon," he explains, casual as ever.

"Yeah, I gathered," I say, shivering. "...Gee Wood, you look messed up."

"We match then," he says, making a finger gun towards me. "You look like you've been given a ravaging in a hedge. Hmm, you did mentioned you have a boyfriend so-."

"Wood!" I squeal, my face burning. "Not. When. There. Are. Cameras!"

"No fun," he says again, dramatically huffing. "Anyway, glad I caught up to you. Kind of in the mood for an ally, and I get the feeling you are too."

"What makes you think that?" I ask him. "Not saying no, I'd love that. Just that I've been doing alright for myself."

"Why? Well, literally this," he says, holding up a sheet of paper. "I figured you dropped this at some point. A message from Johanna... gotta say, her calling you a walking corpse is fairly rude, you know? Nice face but can't say much for the personality."

"Careful. If you win she'll be your neighbour," I warn him, unable to hold back the giggle that formed within me.

"Same warning to you," he says, smirking.

I'm soon shivering again, unendingly.

"It's so cold..." I whisper.

"Lucky for you, I've got a fire starting kit," Wood says, smirking. "I know, I'm awesome. Anyway, I'll get a fire going. You keep an eye out for anything outside the cave and tell ol' Wood all about the shitty day you've more than likely been having. Hopefully better than my run in with that super bitch from One."

"You survived?" I cannot help but feel impressed.

"Eh, she's pretty incompetent if you ask me," Wood says, chuckling. "Anyway, details. Chop, chop."

So, as Wood gradually starts to get a wonderful, warm fire going I began to tell him about my day. But, as I tell him about how wild this day was I cannot help but make a note of two things.

First is the blood on his spear... it just feels a little nerve-wracking to share a cave with a boy so casual over killing a few tributes... no, people. Though, I have killed as well so I'm no better. Maybe we all respond to the guilt differently?

Secondly... it's strange how different Wood is now than he was at home. On the Reaping stage he was almost sobbing. On the train he was confident, smug even. It's so strange... did he try to pull a Johanna but change his mind?

Perhaps I'll never know.

But, at least I have an ally. District Seven is truly in business now!

"Anyway," Wood says after a while. "How about this... tomorrow, we go and destroy all of the Careers' supplies and cripple them from the inside out?"

I almost choke on my peach upon hearing this risky, crazy plan.

 _ **What**_?!

* * *

 **END OF DAY 4...**

* * *

 **REMAINING TRIBUTES**

Marvel (District 1 Male)

Glimmer (District 1 Female)

Cato (District 2 Male)

Gadget (District 3 Female)

Urchin (District 4 Male)

Cinder (District 5 Female)

Wood (District 7 Male)

Nettle (District 7 Female)

Lacey (District 8 Female)

Rammy (District 10 Male)

Katniss (District 12 Female)

* * *

 **THE FALLEN**

12th- **Peeta (District 12 Male)** \- Beaten relentlessly, by Cato.

13th- **Rue (District 11 Female)** – Spear thrown into chest, by Wood.

14th- **Clove (District 2 Female)** \- Drowned, by Nettle.

15th- **Weldar (District 3 Female)** \- Asphyxiated with a rope, by Rammy.

16th- **Jason (District 6 Male)** – Slashed several times in the stomach with a scythe, by Cato.

17th- **Sparky (District 5 Male)** – Speared in the gut with a spear and then stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Wood.

18th- **Sickle (District 9 Female)** – Stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Glimmer.

19th- **Thresh (District 11 Male)** – Disembowelled with a machete, by Cato.

20th- **Marina (District 4 Female)** \- Struck in the neck with an axe by Weldar.

21st- **Miller (District 9 Female)** – Knife thrown into back, by Clove.

22nd- **Tamora (District 6 Female)** – Stabbed repeatedly in the gut, by Glimmer.

23rd- **Sable (District 10 Female)** – Stuck in the skull with an axe, by Cato.

24th- **Callico (District 8 Male)** – Stabbed with a kukri, by Marvel.

* * *

 **TRIBUTE NOTES**

 **Peeta:** As anybody who has read the book and seen the movie will know, Peeta was never Katniss' enemy and loved her all along, joining the Career Pack as a means to try and protect her. However, key thing to note here... the audience can see everything. Nettle doesn't have that luxury, and so from her individual perspective she thought Peeta to be a rat and a bit of a fiend, hence the more negative portrayal he got in the narration which he lacked in other 74th Games stories, especially in Sickle's. Anyway, past the bias of our leading lady of this timeline, Peeta was as ever fun to write for. Smart, cunning and notably good with manipulation and charming people... but here, he didn't keep himself on the Careers good side or have an escape from them. Cato's fury from Nettle's smooth talk and one wrong response when the Career was seething led to quite the fatal beat down. A shame, but the Games don't know what mercy is...


	5. Day 5: Unlucky Sevens

**Disclaimer:** I do now own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

 **Note:** Welcome back to another chapter of the story! Another fun chapter to write, I think I'm starting to hit my stride with writing for Nettle at this point. Just feels like I'm getting a more solid idea on how to write out her narration and lines than I did when the story started. Also, to the anonymous reader who asked me some questions, here's my answer! Each timeline is it's own separate AU story 100% independent of each other. They branch out based on the Lead specifically doing something different than their canon actions. As for if the story will continue past the 74th Games... well, that depends on if Nettle survives, doesn't it? ;) Let's read on and see how she fares!

* * *

The night is cold, the weather practically biting away at the land outside the cave with its frosty claws. It's fortunate for me that Wood found me and lit us a nice roaring fire, or I'd be freezing to death out there. The inside of the cave is... well, hardly perfect but at least it's warm. The rain outside is light, nothing too bad, but being completely out of it is always the better option. I don't like being wet, at all.

Wood's been gracious enough to share out some of his supplies with me, but he's kept all the weapons right beside him, far from my reach. Just water, meat and some bread for me tonight. Not that I mind, as the fact he'd even share this much is certainly something rare in the Games. Many times allies share nothing at all, but here I am not starving all because of him.

I know that on some level this is just to make his own chances better, but that's ok. We didn't even know each other before the reaping happened, so it's not like I expect a ton from him. District loyalty though, it's certainly great to benefit from it. I remember how he talked to Blight about how he feels proud to be from Seven and genuinely enjoys all the work, just that he 'hates the fuckers in charge'.

Plus, he's feeding me. Why should I complain at all?

Chewing my food, I can only hope that our alliance can hold for a long time. I was ready to rough it all alone, but having somebody to work with and talk to really has reminded me of just how valuable company can be. It's amazing how, now that the loneliness is gone, I feel like my head is clearer and I am better able to think. Though, I can't help my mind thinking of what happens when the, um, numbers fall and the alliance breaks. Only one of us can get out of this place.

Well, out in a way besides a casket anyway. Even if mine could perhaps be mahogany and encrusted with a fine emerald... no! Why am I thinking such thoughts? No, I won't die!

I shake my head a little. I can't focus on that kind of thought, not yet. If I just make myself extremely paranoid worrying over an alliance split... well, it's kind of a self fulfilling prophecy isn't it? I'll just... try not to think of Wood getting a better training score and having better odds than me. Yeah, that's exactly what I shall do.

Anyway, as I sit here quietly eating, Wood has been talking me through his plan of taking out the Careers' supplies. I have to admit, he is completely correct that without supplies the Careers are going to be helpless... or, well, ok not really. But, they will be a lot easier to take on if they are hungry. After all, the first feelings of starvation are truly the worst.

I sure know it...

But to just go in there and destroy their stuff? It's so dangerous! People have died making such rushes before now. A _**lot**_ of people. What makes our odds any better?

"We just need to move in when they are gone," Wood explains. Somehow, he manages to come off as serious and mischievous all at once. "It's just two of the Careers right now; Glimmer's gone elsewhere and I got her in the shoulder with the spear. She won't be an issue, heheh."

"You seem to be taking some pleasure in that," I say, unable to hide my distaste.

"Hey, she'd take pleasure in our deaths," he reminds me. "She can deal with me being a sassy bitch right back to her. Anyway, whatever you feel over deaths and all that jazz, fact is the Careers will be nothing without their stuff and as we only have to deal with two of them right now, this is the perfect time."

He pounds a fist into his palm for emphasis. I gulp... gotta say, in the flame lit cave Wood looks just a bit more than slightly intimidating.

"Marvel and Cato have to sleep eventually. The best plan is to stake out near their base, wait for one to sleep and one to take a piss... then kill the sleeper. After that, two on one... well, I'd hate to be their families," he says, shrugging. "Whoops."

"Do we have to kill them? It could backfire so easily," I warn him, swallowing my nerves hard. "I'm not willing to risk my life on this. They've already lost a lot of supplies."

"Yeah, but they still have more than everybody else," Wood says, firm. "I don't have anywhere near as much. You sure don't and I doubt any other tribute does. Eliminating them, like it or not sweetie, is gonna help. Besides, he who dares wins. Most Victors have been pretty daring in some way."

He's right. Every Victor, more or less, has taken a risk at some point and without exception they have all killed somebody. I am of the mind that there is no one exact way win the Hunger Games, but it's not like Wood is wrong. Being risky and aggressive is known to get results.

Though, knowing of all of our Victors from a young age, I already know somebody who proves this statement a bit wrong.

"What about Pliny?" I ask him. "She took no risks, really. Back then there wasn't even a Bloodbath like it is now. After the massacre in the first Games, it was weird how it just ended up being four tributes gone."

"Ok, on the one hand I agree that you have a point," Wood says, nodding to himself thoughtfully with a hand to his chin. "On the other hand, are you _fucking_ kidding me right now, dearest Nettle? We can't sleep through the Games like she did. If we tried that, we'll be sleeping for eternity."

Again, he's right. Pliny's Victory... she literally slept through the Hunger Games, hiding inside the Cornucopia in a chest. It was such a national embarrassment for the Capitol that, because of the way she won, any tribute who stays in one place for too long gets nasty traps or monsters set upon them. shame really, as sleeping through this hell sure sounds like a nice way to win.

"Look, even if we avoid them now we'll have to face them eventually. When we do they'll be better fed and we'll die," he says, shrugging bitterly. "We either get an early strike, or die having lived maybe a crappy day or two longer. Your choice what sounds better."

"...Wood, you're phrasing this so that I cannot disagree with you without coming off as an idiot," I say, huffing a bit.

He just smirks. Such cheek! And yet, thinking over the long term benefit, the sooner the Careers die or at least lose their food the better it'll be for us. I'd rather face Rammy in the 'finale' than Marvel and Cato. Not that I'd call the tough cowboy an easy foe by any means.

"I'm up for the plan, just so you know," I say to him, moving myself a little closer to the fire. "But we'd be waiting a while for them to leave themselves open like that. Also as you noted, I have no supplies, really. I'm certainly not getting any Sponsors. Johanna's useless so it's all up to my own skill."

"I can work with that, so long as your skill level isn't shit," he assures me. "...I get decent Sponsors so for now at least you can just leech off of me and pay me back later. Eh, we'll work out the details as we go."

We're silent for a bit as we sit by the fire.

"Honestly, we don't need to destroy the supplies and kill them. That'd kinda just leave us worse off," I tell him. "How were you planning to destroy the supplies anyway? Throw them in the water? I was at their camp, it's not near a river or anything. Not near enough that we could quickly get rid of stuff."

Wood scowls for a moment, annoyed at the holes I've poked into his plan. I can live with this, just so long he won't poke holes into me. Hardly charming behaviour if he did.

"I'm stressed, not thinking clearly. You go a few days in the Arena and see if you can think properly," he scoffs. "Oh wait, you've done that! And oh look, you're not thinking clearly either!"

"Yeah... it's rough," I agree with him. "I miss the manor and just hiding under the covers during cold nights, sometimes with Ranger embracing me. Mmmmm, I miss it."

"I'm jealous," Wood says, chuckling. He reaches into his backpack. "Anyway! This is how we'd destroy them."

He presents me with a jar. It's full of some kind of... uh, it looks like red sticky jelly? What, is he going to make everything all sticky and gross? Hardly the craziest plan that the Hunger Games have seen but a touch useless for my liking.

"You're gonna cover the supplies in jelly?" I ask him, flatly. "Whoa, genius."

"Oh shut up," he scoffs. "It's _napalm_ , read the label! Snagged in on day one at the Cornucopia. We throw this on their stuff and light it up. Boom! It's really flammable so it'd burn the lot of it... or, I guess we could incinerate one of them if we have time, or get bored. Either or, you know?"

I flinch at the thought of somebody burning to death. I've seen forest fires in Seven. Perhaps just from a safe distance, but the fact remains that they cause massive damage to properly and people. A nasty way to go. That's not getting into what napalm can do; they say in the Dark Days that napalm rained upon the forest and filled it with the fires of hell.

"What if the fire spreads?" I ask him, warily. "Napalm can burn even if it's raining."

"We run," he shrugs. "Look, you got any better ideas of what to do? You've not given me a lot to work with sweetie pie, so if you have no ideas kindly don't just critique my own. I just don't want to die; I have too much going on in life to have time for that."

Looking at Wood I can see that he's not just showing scars from previous fights or accidents, but he's exhausted. He must have had one very busy day. That or he's been scared out of his mind and been full of emotional pain. I can relate to that, oh yes...

"I think we're both really tired," I tell him as I can rub my hands together by the fire. "Maybe we can continue this talk in the morning when we're better rested? We'll be less moody, less upset... maybe. Sound good?"

"Best plan you've had all night," he says as he lays down against the cave wall. "Your only plan too. I guess by default it's the best. Fine, let's settle it in the morning."

He lays back while I lay on my front, curling up by the fire. It's as close to comfort as I am gonna get, so I'm grateful to be able to rest like this.

"By the way, funny thing about me," Wood continues. "I have a habit of stabbing people if they try to steal my weapons when I am in the Hunger Games. So, uh, _don't_."

With that final, chilling warning my District Partner settles down to sleep. I'm left to gulp at the thought of his words and settle myself down. I try my best to not look at his spear or at any of his other stuff like the rather nice double sided hatchet he's got. All his, not mine. I don't like not having stuff to call my own. Humph!

Part of me doubts that Wood would actually follow up on the threat and kill me. Attacking your own District Partner is a serious offence among Outliers and even Careers in most cases. Plus, I know Wood is very pro-Seven so he'd likely leave me for last. But then again he's displayed plenty of strange, unnerving behaviour since the reaping and he alluded to killing more than one person earlier, so maybe it'd be foolish to assume.

I fear that my ally may a few trees short of a forest in some ways.

Morning, Nettle. Worry over it in the morning.

My eyes growing heavy from sleepiness, I use my hands as some sort of a pillow and settle down. The warmth of the fire on my face keeps me content until I finally feel myself drifting off.

* * *

 **(The next morning...)**

* * *

"Ewwwww! This place stinks!" I choke out, maybe for the thirtieth time.

"Yeah, you've said that about thirty five times already," Wood says, frowning. Well, I stand corrected. "It's not that bad. Just a bad smell, and when you compare it to the possibility of being killed it's hardly the most of your worries. Four G's Nettle; get a Goddamn grip girl."

I go silent, as I know he's right. I just... do not deal well with bad smells of any kind, or dirt at all. I guess growing up in a fragrant, peaceful and clean mansion has left me unprepared for this. Now, the smell of the forest is one thing. In fact, I like it. But swamps and mud, made worse by the humidity from the fake sun... foul! So very foul!

We left the cave a while back, and since then we've just been walking out way through the forest towards where the Careers have their camp. I went a bi of course after all that panicked running in the darkness last night, but Wood claims that he knows where he is going. It surprises me when he says that it's a few miles to the west.

I really ran that far? I didn't know I had it in me to do that. Feels kinda good hearing it, actually. Certainly sounds better than everything smells right now...

"I'm just saying," Wood continues. "It's not even that bad. I live near one of the marshes of Seven back home. This is actually making me less homesick. Can't see why it's making you literally sick. You need to get out more."

"Not like I have a choice right now," I say to him as we make our way over a few logs scattered along the ground. "Don't suppose you could chop down a tree so we could have some lumber? We could make a raft; the water is going to rise again soon enough, so we'll need to be ready for it."

"Fine idea," he tells me, nodding. "We'll burn the supplies, or the Careers, and then get on with that. Until then, how should we kill Marvel; decapitation or a neck breaker?"

"What?" I say, flatly. Like... what?!

"Flashy kills attract sponsors, usually," he explains, making grand gestures with his hands. "They want a show, we want to live... we can work with that, so long as we're willing to get our hands dirty. I know you don't like dirt, I know, but-."

"Dirt and murder are not the same thing," I say, unable to keep the snootiness from my tone.

"Sure they are; they're both filthy," Wood says, a wolfish smirk on his face. "Just saying, sponsors are gonna help. Even if you have none, _I_ get them and I'm fine to share with you. Blight said that Sponsors are vital, and the number one way to get them is eliminating the others."

"I guess it just feels awkward to talk about how to kill somebody and how to make it 'flashy'," is my response to him. "It's immoral."

"Immoral? Oh give me a break," he scoffs, shaking his head. "Nettle dearest, you killed somebody. I don't know who but you said so last night that you did. At this point, you may as well keep going. You already crossed that line and you cannot go back ever again. It gets easier... just don't think about it too hard. Pretend they are trees or something."

In some ways I can see his point. Back home trees must be cut down... and in a manner of speaking, every other tribute must be cut down too. Unlike trees, though, they think, feel and bleed. I don't see it the same way, but maybe I would if I was from a more common class life like Wood is?

We walk silently for a while, feeling so very awkward. I can only assume that Wood might be thinking the same thing as me, at least partly; we may be allies but we really do not have anything in common except being from District Seven and if we cannot bond a bit better than we are now - meaning, bonding in general - the alliance may break sooner.

I guess it's hard to think of an area to really talk to each other, you know? I'm rich and Wood's kinda poor I think. I'm rather fussy and elegant in how I like things, while he's not in any form of discomfort by the gross swamp. He's fine to commit murder in the Arena and I'm still having issues accepting the fact I already killed somebody. The list goes on.

"I'm sorry," I eventually say. "I just lack the same nerve you have, I guess. It's not as easy to wrap my mind around killing people just like me. Well, not just like but you know what I mean."

"I just figure that I don't know them or owe them anything. I'm running on the assumption they'd do the same to me if given a chance," he tells me, shrugging. "You'll feel the same soon enough, every Victor does. I've just accepted it faster than most. That's why the Careers do the best at the start, they already have accepted the need to kill people. Now, personally I think they're a load of shit, but they have the right idea for the Games. Now, if they just didn't have that nasty habit of being arrogant little bitches I may even like them."

Wood shakes his head, as if dismayed.

"Alas, I cannot spare any love for them. Not when Glimmer attacked me and tried to make my face resemble something a tiny bit less gorgeous," he laments.

His wording makes me snicker, beyond my control. I just can't help it. Wood is funny! He smirks, pleased by this.

"It's true, I am pretty hot," he adds, winking.

"Taken," I remind him, giggling. "...But... eight out of ten."

To this, Wood snorts and looks at me sharply. Oh snap, did I piss him off without meaning to? Nuts! It was only an accident, oh so unintentional!

"Only an eight? I'm a twelve, bitch," he says, smirking. The way his grin widens and his eyes close smugly... yeah, I'm snickering again.

"How pretty do you think I am out of ten?" I ask him, curiously. "...Thirteen?"

"You wish," he says, playfully rolling his eyes. "Eh, if I had to give you a score... I don't fucking know, you've got the wrong equipment for me to really care. I'll just say seven to show some district support."

"Ever the patriot," I remark. "My father would be pleased to see you being such a loyal citizen."

"If he's so happy, would he mind maybe using his wealth to sponsor me something? or, sponsor you something with a note in it that tells you to share it with me?" Wood asks, looking up at the sky. "C'mon, please? I even said please, dammit!"

Like I'd said before, Wood might be kind of crazy... but you know what? I'm starting to see that his crazy side is actually rather appealing. So long as I don't look at his blood soaked spear I can even feel myself relax just a bit.

I almost stumble over when he suddenly stops and puts an arm in front of me.

"Ssssh!" he says sharply, glancing around. "We're not alone."

He practically presses the double sided hatchet into my hand. I grip it while Wood continues to listen carefully; he licks his lips, a glint in his eyes.

I just gulp, holding my new weapon tightly. Soon enough, I hear what it is that Wood must have heard.

Growling.

"That's not a tribute," I whisper.

"Yeah, can't be," he agrees, both hand gripping his spear. He narrows his eyes as he slowly turns around on the spot, gazing all around. "It's a Mutt. Question, think it'd eat you first? If so, mind being the bait?"

"Excuse me?!" I squeal, giving him one sharp look. Humph! The nerve!

"Just kidding," he cackles. "Anyway, here comes a bear. We should probably kill it, huh?"

I turn and whimper. This is ever so bad. Nuts! It's a big bear; I'm not sure exactly what kind it is - either a black bear or a grizzly? I really don't know. It might be another breed for all I know. - but one think I do know is that it's _big_. Much bigger than me! The sharp teeth, the big claws... oh nutsnutsnuts!

"Ready?" Wood asks me.

"No!" I squeak.

"Too late, he's here!" Wood says, getting into a battle stance. He takes a few deep breathes. "Ok, I'm ready for Freddy."

"Freddy?" I say blankly, unable to stop myself commenting on it.

"A bear needs a name, right?" Wood shrugs.

The bear - or, should I refer to him as Freddy? No, I'm not quite so childish - looms near, ready to fight. There's two of us and one of it, true, but it's surely heavier than both of us combined and a lot more powerful.

"Aim for the head!" Wood orders me. "Let's go two ways, confuse the bastard!"

He runs one way and after a moment of yelping and stumbling I run the other way. True to Wood's word, the bear seems confused for a moment, unsure which of us to target first.

Nuts!

 _It has chosen me_...

I back away slowly as the big bear draws near, growling. I hold my hatchet, but I'm not sure what good it'll be in this fight. It's not a long handled axe, so I have to get right up to it.

I react the instant it starts to raise it's paw.

The bear recoils, now with an axe wound against its face. It roars, surely loud enough to be heard for a mile. Nuts, it might attract more mutts or other tributes. This is turning out to be one terrible morning.

I jump to the side and try to scramble away from it but the bear is a quick one despite being so big and bulky. It simply smashes me over with its side. I sprawl out into the dirt, dazed. I look up as the bear's jaw comes close.

I barely have time to scream.

I expected death, but instead my scream is cut off because Wood took the chance to spear the bear in its left eye. It roars, romping about the clearing and smashing a tree. The tree falls with a massive thud while Wood gives me another of his wolfish grins.

"You really do make good bait," he teases me.

I stagger up to my feet, grabbing up the hatchet. Fighting as we are, I still find a spare second to show him my very best finger. That being the middle one on my left hand. This boy has some serious cheek!

Wood just leers, laughing a bit. He stops laughing as the bear bashes him over as well. His scream makes me pale horribly; he's not dead as it seems the bear was more trying to punch him than slash him, but I can see a little blood soak into his shirt. He's at the base of a tree, trying to fend the bear off with his spear, but the bear seems to be ignoring what must certainly be incredible pain. I would assume it to be ever so painful to be stabbed with a spear. I can only hpe to not find out for myself.

"Nettle! Do something! Holy fucking fuck, stop having a monologue in your mind, hoe!" he screams. I'm unsure if he's more scared or pissed off.

Either way, two thongs. I'm _not_ a hoe, just willing to express my love to the man of my dreams. Secondly, nuts, I better do something now!

The bear has its back to me as if I were not here. The advantages of there being another target besides me, I guess. Perfect, I have an opening to strike. Not the head though, but...

My mind flashes to something Ranger told me the week before I was reaped. We were having a light dinner - steak, mainly - and some drinks, sharing stories He mentioned an uncle who once rode upon a bear.

I act before I really think it over, having been inspired my this memory. Charging forwards I jump upon the bear and onto its back. I lunge forth before it can throw me off and bring down the axe right upon the top of its head.

The roar is deafening, or at least enough to make my eardrums throb terribly. The throbbing is worse when the dying bear bucks about and throws me off right to the dirt. I groan and cough, whimpering in the dirt.

The bear, however, doesn't whimper. It instead lets out a dying roar, having just been speared in the throat by Wood. He staggers out of the way as the bear flails about. Thankfully, he's moved clear by he time the Mutt collapses on the ground.

We won.

I get back up, taking a few deep breaths. Staggering to a tree I lean against it for support and wheeze some more. I glance over at Wood, who does much the same as I am.

"You know, you make pretty good bait too," I tell him, as serious as can be.

For a moment he looks like he's been punched. Then he starts howling with laughter, as if I've just told the most hilarious of jokes.

I can't help laughing along as well. I guess there are some things that you just cannot do with somebody without laughing over the experience.

Fighting a bear mutt is one of these things, it would seem.

* * *

 **(Time passes...)**

* * *

Its an hour after the bear mutt was slain, more or less, and our spirits are higher than they have been lately. Mine are at least. Wood let me keep hold of the hatchet so I feel a lot more secure now. It's doubled sided unlike the first one I had, and lost, so I feel stronger than ever. Granted, this is not saying much, but I'm trying to be a little optimistic over things.

No sponsors came, but Wood had some medical supplies on him for the wound he took. He's not exactly happy over the injury, but the medicine seems to have helped a lot already. I'm sure he'll be fine soon enough. If nothing else, there is now one less Mutt to worry about and we're closer to the Career's camp.

Though, that last fact has me rather on edge presently. If given the choice, I'd run for the hills and hide from the Careers. Maybe stay in a cave and just hope they'd fall off a cliff or maybe eat nightlock while being miles away from me. I suppose I'm just not that lucky.

Both Wood and I groan as the rain starts to fall again. I'm not one to waste a moment like this, though, and so I uncap my water bottle and hold it up to catch the rain. Even one extra sip of water is precious in this place.

"Nice idea," Wood says, following my lead. "I'd not expected you to be so resourceful."

"Neither did I, honestly," I say, continuing to collect the rain. "I'm just doing what I can to adapt and stay alive."

We're silent for a bit, just catching the rainwater. It's peaceful, but... I just try my best not to groan over how this is gonna make the Arena smell even worse soon enough. Ick!

With the rain quickly getting heavy it's not hard to know that the water will be rising yet again. I wonder, will the entire Arena eventually be submerged? All the more reason to make a raft, if you ask me. I can swim, sure, but in deep water full of crocodiles... yeah, I'd prefer not to, thanks.

"How's your injury?" I ask Wood once we continue moving along.

"Distinctly not pleasant," he says, sulking. "I kind of want bears extinct now, actually."

"At least it didn't get you anywhere vital. Not many tributes leave a fight with a Mutt quite so lightly," I tell him as we make our way through some mud. Ewwwwww...

"If this is lightly, then I do not want to see heavy," Wood says, shaking his head. "Honestly, this feels kinda unbearable."

I groan, loud and pained. Did he really just make a bear pun, now of all times? No, just no! I've never been one for puns, and I'm certainly not starting now. No bad puns around me, please and thank you.

"What?" Wood asks, smirking.

"You know what," I say, sulking.

"Why, was the joke not 'beary' funny?" he asks me. I believe his grin could be described as 'smug as shit' right now. Humph!

I groan, loudly.

A second groan that comes from neither Wood nor myself has us both freeze. As does the quiet mutter of 'oh crud' a moment later. There is no doubts about it, there is another tribute in the vicinity.

Wood quietly gets himself into a battle stance, his spear gripped tightly. The mixture of bear and human blood on the points has me forced to hold down my breakfast. I manage, but it's a close thing. I'm starting to wonder if I am legitimately hematophobic; I've never ever done well with blood. Even a paper cut made me faint one time... not from the light pain but merely the dribble of blood.

I know the voice wasn't that of a boy, but it doesn't tell me much. Any of the rest could be armed, and if a tribute has a weapon then they have the potential to be very dangerous regardless of age of size. This thought is made worse with how all of the other tributes still alive, besides Urchin, are taller than I am. Height can be a winning factor sometimes.

"Over there," Wood whispers, pointing his eyes towards a thick tree. "They're on the other side."

"I'm outta here!" yells the tribute, scampering off.

I can see it's Lace - unless, like with Rammy, I have her name wrong. - the girl from Eight. She's still got Marvel's spear in her grasp, though I honestly don't remember if she ever trained with spears. But, so long as she holds that I'd prefer not to get too close.

"Come on, let's get her!" Wood yells, becking to me. "She won't be hard to kill."

"Wait, Wood," I say, holding his arm to pull him back for a moment. "She's just a kid. Like, thirteen maybe?"

"So?" he asks, impatient. "Age doesn't really matter. Equal opportunities and all that... for death."

"She's no threat, and the younger ones never win," I insist to him. "Let's just let her go, she's not gonna be much of a risk to let go."

"On the other hand, she might hide a pure evil heart behind that dim outer shell," Wood says, unconvinced.

"I think you should listen to her," Lace calls to him, having reached the high ground. She looks at us from the top of a muddy hill, ready to run any second. "Plenty of better targets out there than me! The Careers are pretty bad dudes, y'know? Oh, and the boy from Ten is big and _strong_! I'm just a little wisp of fabric compared to them."

"She has a point," I say, nodding. "You know Wood... maybe having a third person on our side could help? I mean, three of us against three Careers? It makes sense."

"She could also steal from us or try something funny," he says, shaking his head. "Nettle, sweetie... she's gotta die and die _now_."

"Um, rude!" Lace yells, looking offended. I guess it makes sense... it is 'rude' to talk of killing somebody, especially when they're listening. "I'd actually not mind having allies. I wanted to maybe see if I could work with the others my age, but I don't know where they are and, well, nobody really talked much in the training centre? So... I could find berries for you, or maybe be a scary body guard! Oh, oh! I can also make you a nice pair of socks!"

Wood silently turns towards me, rolling his eyes.

"Gee, what a great ally," he says, spinning finger beside his head. "Actually, now I want to kill her even more."

"H-hey, let's not go and act all hasty!" Lace says, stepping back nervously. I'm not sure why she's not running; bravery or foolishness? Perhaps just the hope of allies and thus protection is making her stay? "I've seen other tributes in the area, I can help you stay safe! I've seen... Glimmer!"

I'm not sure why the dramatic pause was needed - nor the sound of thunder the Gamemakers just put on - but she has my attention now, for sure.

"Wood, if a Career is nearby we should listen," I whisper.

"Where did you see Glimmer?" Wood asks her, calmly. More thunder booms when he names the girl from One. "Now, don't go lying to me. It's a good way to die, you see. Heheh."

"A large patch of blackberries that-a-way is where I saw Glimmer," she says as she points to her left, while more thunder booms.

"You sure that was where you saw Glimmer?" I ask. More thunder...

"Yes.. Glimmer!" Lace announces, giggling. Thunder, again.

I get the feeling the Gamemakers are having a good laugh over all of this, but I for one have grown weary of this joke already. It's been overdone, it lost what little charm it had due to overexposure.

"Can the Gamemakers please stop with the thunder?" I ask the sky. "Like, please?"

"What's the problem?" Lace asks between giggles. "If you ask me, it was-URK!"

I soundlessly gasp, horrified. Wood mutters something about a 'kill-stealer' beside me as he gets on his guard. We both know trouble is lurking, and lurking near.

Hard not to when an arrow has been shot at Lace, piercing through her chest from behind. Before she can choke out another word or even start to cry or scream more arrows are fired. Another to her chest, one to her leg, one to her backside, one to her hip... how many arrows does this person even need to use?!

Lace collapses after a final arrow is fired to her shoulder, rolling down the hill lifelessly until she comes to a stop at our feet in a crumpled heap. Bleeding out, her eyes slowly meet mine.

It's like she tries to say something, but lacks the remaining energy to do so. As she stares into space, a sock falls from one of her open pockets. It must be her token.

I hastily grab it up to put with the others, before I scream at the sound of the cannon firing. She's dead, her life ended right in front of me, and now right at my feet. She was there, giggling over the stupid Gamemaker joke not even a minute ago.

She was so young. I shake, gritting my teeth. This... this is wrong. Disgustingly wrong. She was only thirteen for fuck's sake! Calm Nettle, calm... her killer is near and is sure to put up a fight.

Protect yourself first. React to Lace's death when the dust settles. You're not safe or able to do anything when other tributes are still alive.

Wood, meanwhile, doesn't react. He's casually gotten to his knees, plucking the arrows out of Lace's corpse. Seeing me looking at him in such an affronted way he just shrugs.

"We could use these. When they take the body, they take the arrows. Like my mother often says, you gotta recycle murder weapons. Or, was it cans? Eh, close enough," he says, chuckling. "Eight to go, just remember that."

That's about the time when the Lace's killer steps up upon the kill. As I expected, it's Glimmer and on cue the thunder sounds to announce her arrival. She just chuckles, amused by it. I don't take my eyes off of the bow and in her hand or the quiver of arrows she's got, but it would be quite difficult to miss everything else.

The Arena hasn't been kind to her. She looks worn out, and besides that her shoulder area is bloodstained. Same for some of her hair, the parts not knotted from mud and grime that is.

Her eyes harden when her eyes land upon us. Her smirk remains, but it quickly becomes cold. Sinister. ...Fierce.

"You," she says, scowling at Wood. "I'd like a word with you. An arrow shaped word... in your heart. I think we have unfinished business."

"Sorry to love you and leave you, but I gotta keep upgrading, you know? I'm not really a guy to be tied down to just one lover," Wood says, smirking teasingly. Oh no, is he really mocking her right now? "I'm ready whenever you are."

Glimmer keeps the bow aimed at him, notching an arrow. She gaze becomes ever colder as she looks at me.

I shuffle a bit under the heated hatred in her glare.

"I know what you did," she tells me, her tone ever so cool and testy. "Clove chases after you... and then she's dead. It doesn't take a genius to work out what happened there."

"It was Rammy!" I say, lying before I even have to think it over. I'd rather not make her any angrier than she already is.

"I may be blonde, but fun little fact... I'm not stupid," she snorts. "I can see it in your eyes, bullseye."

"Bullseye?" I say, before the realisation sets in.

I drop down as quick as I can, the arrow sailing over me, pinning into a tree a distance away. I scramble up and run without waiting for anything else to happen. Glimmer has a ranged weapon and the high ground, this is a terrible place to try and fight her. Better to either lose her or move to a terrain where we can properly fight her.

I dislike combat, fear it even, but if I have to fight then I'll give it all I have. But, why fight an archer when they have a clear upper hand and line of sight on me? Fight smarter, not harder. It's survival that wins, not killing the most people. One could kill twenty two and then die anyway because the last one snuck up behind them with a knife.

"Where are you going?!" Wood calls after me.

"To be a better location! She's got the high ground, run!" I yell back to him.

My yell becomes a shrill scream as my shoulder feels aflame. It's burning as if it just got napalm set ablaze upon it. I scream as I flee through the forest, a quick glance confirming the worst; an arrow has been shot into my shoulder. It hurt enough from the front after my fight with Rammy; the arrow wound from the back is just excessive. The pain is indescribable.

I hear the sound of another arrow being launched - just my luck, really, that Glimmer has been sponsored so many of those things - and Wood letting out his own scream of pain. I glance back, and I can see that he's running after me, an arrow stuck in his own shoulder. He tries to act like he's not bothered, but his grimace betrays the fact he's in serious pain.

I hear Glimmer laugh distantly, starting to pursue us.

"Whoops!" she calls out to us. "Did I do that?"

Another arrow is fired, one that thankfully overshoots and veers away into the overgrowth. Glancing back, I see Glimmer has started to pursue us. Just perfect...

"Oh whoa, this feels amazing!" Wood remarks, before screeching. Ack, my ears. "Oh wait, no, this actually _fucking sucks_!"

I lead the way, weaving throughout the trees. When you need a clear shot, rough and overgrown terrain is the enemy, and also the friend of the target. Same for being small; I'm starting to see the benefit of my shorter stature. Besides the agony in my arm from the first arrow, Glimmer is unable to get a hit on me.

"You can't run forever!" Glimmer calls after us. "But by all means, run!"

She giggles, the sinister sound echoing through the forest.

"Makes it all the more fun for me!" she adds.

Certainly not fun I would want to partake in, not at all. We run and run for several long, painful minutes but Glimmer is always there a little ways behind us. I had assumed her to be the weakest of the Careers, to be honest, but it seems whether or not this is true she's still stronger than we are.

Or, perhaps the arrow in my shoulder is just making it harder to run. ...What do I have to lose, besides my life? If this thing is slowing me down, then it's gotta come out. I brace myself as I take hold of the arrow.

One... two... three!

...

 _ **AAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHH**_!

Birds fly from the trees, scattering in alarm at my outburst. My throat burns from it, but my shoulder is worse. The pain has me stumbling as it courses throughout my body. A second loud scream, louder than my own, has me wailing in alarm much like the birds. Seems Wood followed my lead and, much like myself, regrets it thoroughly.

"Fuck... not swanky... shizzle... urrrkk... tree rot!" he screeches, his words nonsensical.

I hadn't realised it until it was too late, but we've started to come towards a dead end. No! No! No!

But, all the no's in Panem cannot change the facts as they are. We've gone downhill to a sort of lower point of the forest, dirt walls surrounding us. Glimmer laughs a distance behind us, realising we're trapped too. The only cover I can see is two boulders.

They'll have to do, at least until a better plan can be established. I practically leap behind one of them, crouching myself as low as possible. From this position, it should be impossible for Glimmer to hit me.

Wood runs to the other boulder, lunging for cover. Just before he makes it to safety another arrow is fired. One moment all is silent except for the tell tale sound of the arrow soaring through the air. The next moment, Wood screams and swears non-stop.

He just took an arrow to the knee!

The sight of the blood has me shaking and gagging in seconds. Seeing Lace's crumpled body, bleeding from the arrows and laying in a heap... that was bad enough and already sure to cause nightmares once I'm out of fight or flight mode. But seeing my ally laying there with an arrow through his knee and red, sticky blood coating his fingers as he clutches the wound... urrppp, so sick...

Being one of the older tributes on the age spectrum is probably what prevents me from going into a full on panic. I've watched the Games for years and seen quite a few grisly deaths. As I always had to attend mandatory viewings alongside father, there was never a moment for me to cover my eyes or have a conveniently timed bathroom break when the worst moments happened. After all, the Peacekeepers _**always**_ watch the Mayor and his daughter who sits beside him.

Basically, you could say that I got somewhat desensitised quicker than other people do. Then again, there's a huge difference between watching the Hunger Games and being in them. I may be able to maintain rational thought, but I can't stop my arms shaking like a blur nor my breath from hitching constantly.

"Well, well," Glimmer says as she approaches us, standing at the top of the slope. "Looks like a pair of _un_ lucky Sevens, trapped with nowhere left to go."

"If you're gonna make stupid jokes, can you kill us and then do it?" Wood asks.

"Careful what you wish for, you might just get it," Glimmers says, cold as ice. "Prepare for a lot of pain that even now you're not quite familiar with."

"Can't be more painful than your company," Wood states, already rapidly bandaging up his knee whilst hissing in pain.

At this, I can't stop myself snorting in amusement despite the danger we're in. Glimmer just scoffs, and while I don't dare peer out to see for myself, I bet she just rolled her eyes.

"Make all the jokes you want," she says, idly. "You have nowhere else to run. I got enough supplies here for two days, and sponsors lined up. Let's see who can last longer, shall we?"

"Uh, no. If you stay in one place for too long you'll just get a Mutt or some such horror sent upon you," I say to her, flinching at the very thought. "I'm sure a Career like you would be aware of that. It has been an unspoken rule ever since Pliny of my District won the Second Games."

"Unlike her, me keeping you guys trapped is causing drama," Glimmer says, practically playful. She's toying with us. "I'm putting on a good show."

"If this is a good show, I'd sooner die than put myself through a bad show," Woods says, groaning audibly.

Glimmer grumbles, starting to sound a bit ticked off.

"You know, while you're not gonna make me lose focus if that's your game here... you are highly annoying, immature, stupid, worthless and ugly," she hisses.

"Hey, who're you calling ugly?" Wood replies, affronted. It's getting hard for him to keep up the snark though. His knee looks bad, even with bandages quickly applied.

I just let them both go at it. If Glimmer isn't paying any attention to me, nor able to kill me right now, it gives me some time to think this one over. How are we gonna get out of here and either kill Glimmer or just drive her off somehow? My first thought if the napalm, but Wood surely would insist that we save it for the supply raid. So, what else?

We're stuck here, she cannot quite hit us but we cannot leave without her seeing. Add to that how she has better supplies and how we cannot throw our weapons without leaving cover... hmmmm, this is a tough one. The only benefit is that Marvel and Cato will be very unlikeable to come over here; they're still miles away and even if they were to start hunting would they leave their supplies unguarded? Or, if one of them guarded it would they want to explore this swamp all alone? Careers rarely hunt solo, it's a known fact. Especially before the top six or seven.

Well, I have nothing but time. Ok, c'mon Nettle, think of a plan. There's always room for a plan to be formed...

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

It's been a fair while by now, the sun having moved across the sky a lot in the time I've been stuck in this place. I guess I was stuck to begin with, having been reaped and all, but I feel especially trapped now. If I stand up and run, I'm dead.

The most I've been able to do in the time I have been trapped, besides calm myself down into a state of pure logic and thought, is grab rocks that lay on the ground near me and try to toss them at Glimmer. Of course, I've been throwing them blindly so it's not like I was set for success to begin with. Most of my attempts had Glimmer laughing at me.

Her laughter stopped when one struck her right on the head, but it didn't do anything much besides knock her down for a moment. Nowhere near enough time for either myself or Wood to make a charge at her. Thus, here we stay in a stalemate. Glimmer won't want to face us both up close, but we cannot run without taking arrows to our bodies.

The thought of ending up like Lace has me shuddering.

Right now the biggest enemy, even more than Glimmer, is fatigue. If both of us fall asleep before Glimmer then our lives are over, simple as that. We could try to set shifts but with how Wood is writhing around and clutching his leg I'm not sure how viable that idea is. He really took a bad hit.

I'm running out of ideas, and hope. But, perhaps diplomacy could be an idea? Might as well try all the options I have before calling it a loss.

"Glimmer, perhaps we could cut a deal," I call out.

"What could you possibly have to offer me?" she asks, disbelieving. "I'm fine to hear begging, but... what could you possibly give me that I would actually want? I'm fine for food, water, medical supplies, weapons and sleeping gear."

"Yes. But only for two days, you said so yourself," I point out to her. "Do you know where the other Careers are?"

"What's it to you?" she snorts.

"The fact you responded with aggression rather than an answer that would cut off further deal making tells me you do not know," I say, gathering my wits. "I know where it is. So does Wood. Perhaps if we gave you directions you'd leave us alone? I'll sweeten the deal and tell you where to avoid if you do not want to meet a bear mutt."

I have no idea if any bear mutts are still alive, honestly, but if it makes Glimmer more inclined to listen then I'll offer the information anyway. She's good, but not good enough to live if a bear pinned her down.

"No deal," she says, sweetly. "If I add you two to my list of kills then I'll get plenty of sponsors to help me until I can find where Marvel and Cato are camped at."

"Well... sure you wanna do that?" I ask her, slowly.

"What are you doing Nettle?" Wood asks me. "Are you seriously bartering with her? Here I was thinking I was a desperate lad, but whoa."

"Ssshhh!" I snap at him. narrowing my eyes. "I am trying to save our asses here."

"By all means, don't let me tell you how to play the Games," he says, backing down. "Or rather, do. This plan is doomed."

"Quiet," I say shortly. "Glimmer... what were the scores of Cato and Marvel again?"

"Marvel got a nine and Cato got a ten. Can't you even remember that?" she asks, disbelieving. "Not that hard to recall."

"Well, I know that... and I know you scored an eight," I say. I wipe the sweat off of my forehead. "Why hang out with two boys who you know are stronger than you? They're bonding pretty well without you. I heard you're Marvel's ex, but that's not gonna stop him from killing you in the end. Only one victor. So... why not, uh, break from them and work with us? You're better trained than us and-."

Any further attempt at deal making is ruined by Glimmer laughing. She's in hysterics, gleefully laughing. I don't take the chance to peer out, but I think she's rolling on the ground. Ok, fine, it didn't work but does she have to be oh so rude about it, hmm? I don't think she does, personally. Humph!

"Whoa, what a great offer except not at all. It's almost like a future victor told you the plan wouldn't work," Wood says, slowly clapping.

"Oh shut up and keep rubbing your knee," I say, pouting. I leer at him for a few moments.

"Whoa... ohhh... oh, that was a good one," Glimmer says as she gets back up to her feet. "You actually think I'd want to work with you? Yeah, why not ask me to work with the curly haired twelve year old while you're at it and we'll make it a party. Yeah, no. I'm fine to just break off and go solo when the numbers fall. Working with you two, a pair from the same District who'd probably kill me in my sleep? As if."

"She has a point, I would probably be rather tempted to bash her brains out with a rock if she did sleep near us," Wood says, tapping his chin. He hisses, clutching his leg. "Aahhh, fuck..."

"Come on over and I'll end your pain," Glimmer says, cheerfully. "Permanently~."

"Pass," Wood says, shivering.

A sonar ceases the topic. A Sponsor! ...I swear to the Tree Gods, if this is another note of smack talk from Johanna then I am gonna... oh, false alarm, it's a sponsor that actually had something useful!

...And, _of course_ , it's flying down towards Wood.

Nuts...

Not that this is a bad thing, as it seems like it's medicine of some sort for his leg, but it would be nice to get just one worthwhile sponsor of my own at some point, you know? Food, water, armour... anything, honestly.

Wood reaches up and grabs his sponsor towards him. I'm surprised Glimmer didn't try to take a shot at it, but I guess she'll want to conserve ammo. Why shoot a sponsor when she could shoot at us, I suppose.

I watch as Wood opens the package up - some kind of a bottle with a weird orange fluid inside it - and pours it upon his wound. His scream makes me flinch, but I let myself relax once he shows relief. I guess that's one less problem, at least.

"What are we gonna do?" Wood asks me. "Insulting her and throwing rocks failed. Your 'diplomacy' idea failed. We gonna have to hope she has a heart attack or randomly turns suicidal?"

"No, there is always a way. It's just that we have to find it, and soon," I tell him. "This would be easier if we had any room to get behind her... wait..."

"What?" Wood asks. "Get behind her? Whoa, the connections for that sure are wholesome."

"Oh shush," I huff. "...There's still one thing left we can do."

"And, what might that be?" Wood asks me, intrigued. "...Using you as bait?"

I slowly turn to look Wood in his eyes, leering. Slower still, I shake my head.

"No," I say after a pause. "We call for help and see if we can get somebody to come over. Only card we have left to play."

I'm screaming before Wood can stop me.

"HEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLP! **HEEEEEEEELLLLLLP**! _**HEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLP**_!" I shriek as loud as I can force my voice to be.

I hear Glimmer squeal, no doubt having sore ears from my screams. Certainly not the screams she'd been wanting to hear from me. Wood, too, gasps out a cry and covers his ears.

"Holy crap Nettle, what are you doing?!" he yells. "You're gonna bring people over!"

"Exactly the plan," I say, returning to screaming.

It's a risky plan, maybe a plan with little chance to succeed, but I'll choose an unlikely plan for safety over certain death. Maybe somebody will feel a sense of humanity and come on over. Or, maybe they'll just want to try and eliminate threat like Glimmer. In any case, it'd help if somebody else was in the area to distract the Career girl. With Marvel and Cato most likely miles away, I don't think it's overly likely that one or both will be drawn over to us.

If they are though... I just hope Ranger, and father, do not watch as they kill me. I'd not want such a horrible image stuck with them for the rest of their days.

Soon enough I'm gasping and wheezing, sipping the rainwater I collected earlier. My throat feels sore from all the screaming. It takes a lot out of a women.

"Finally," Glimmer groans, sincerely relieved. "That was horrible! Like, by any chance are you part vulture? You sure sound like one, Seven!"

"It's Nettle," I hiss. "Remember my name."

"Why?" she asks me. "Nobody remembers the fallen tributes for more than a year, if even that, unless they-."

Glimmer is cut off by the sound of an explosion. Nearby, a tree is blasted apart; splinters are sent flying around, as are burning leaves. The tree falls, the smash loud and mighty.

"What the hell?!" she yells, starting to sound legitimately scared.

A few seconds pass, the only sound being a very faint mumbling - like, a very quiet debate of sorts - before a second landmine is chucked through the air. This time the blast sends Glimmer flying backwards, though I don't think that it's enough to cause her any real injury besides what a typical fall to the ground might do. So, a bruise at worst?

She's dropped her bow and quiver.

I dash out from cover, taking the chance presented to me. As I've expressed and been very pouty over, I got no Mentor aid... but Wood did, and I was listening. Johanna mentioned to him that sometimes the Games are all about 'waiting for the golden opportunity'. Well, I've seen one of those now and I'm seizing it before the moment passes.

Adrenaline makes me run fast, faster than Glimmer can rise and try to even reach for the bow. She screams as she sees me running right at her, the hatchet raised.

Truth be told, I don't want to kill her. 'Merely' injure her and keep her out of our hair for a bit, but when one works only on instinct and acting very much in the moment such restraint can be hard to keep in mind. I bring the hatchet down just as Glimmer raises her arms to shield herself.

Not much of a shield, as the hatchet strikes into her arm and splatters some blood around. The blade must be at least an inch deep, more or less. Glimmer shrieks in agony, writhing. She kicks me off of her and leaps up, her breathing very unsteady. I'm back up, only to realise I dropped me weapon... and now, Glimmer holds a knife. A Career will always have a back-up weapon, how could I have overlooked that?

Nuts...

"You're... gonna... die now..." she hisses between grimaces of pain.

"Actually, she won't," a rather squeaky, timid voice says.

We both glance to the top of a boulder nearby. I dash for cover the instant I do; it's Gadget and she's got another landmine in her hands, ready to throw.

Glimmer goes very pale.

"I could blow you up," she says, her knees knocking a bit. "Don't make me d-do it!"

From the side of the boulder steps another tribute. Urchin, the boy from Four and the only tribute smaller than me. Yes, it's true, I am height sensitive to the point I always make note when I am taller than somebody. What of it? Anyway, he holds a short sword and tries to put on a brave, firm face as he stares at Glimmer.

Personally, I do not think it's very convincing at all.

"She'll do it," Urchin adds. "She even blew up a squirrel Mutt earlier like it was nothing. Don't test her patience!"

"Oh, she's testing my patience," Gadget says, starting to shake.

"Oh no, now you've done it!" Urchin yelps, ducking for cover. "She'll blow up the forest!"

"I'll blow you all up!" Gadget shrieks.

I just stare, my eyebrow raised rather high. Is this what passes for good acting these days? A distance behind me I hear Wood discreetly cackling over this. Surely nobody would be stupid enough to-

"I'm outta here!" Glimmer screams, rushing off into the overgrowth. Like a blur, she's gone in less than ten seconds, her footsteps becoming very distant very fast.

...Ok, I guess that answers that. Glimmer was stupid enough to fall for it. Or, perhaps she just knew when to cut her losses and fold. Either way, she's gone at long last. Thank goodness!

That's when I turn towards Urchin and Gadget. It suddenly occurs to me that I'm not safe yet... Gadget has bombs. Explosives. Basically a ranged form of instantaneous fiery death with a horrible boom. Can I say for sure she will not chuck one at me?

No, I bloody well can't!

But, perhaps she won't. She's put the explosive away and now takes deep breathes. Urchin reaches up as much as he is able to gently help her down from the boulder and... I'm sorry, but is it wrong for me to find it just a bit comical to see a tiny kid of about 4'8 if memory serves me right helping somebody 5'9 down from a height?

Still, these two kids just scared Glimmer off and now they're both looking at me. Suddenly, I feel rather exposed, like I'm being judged. Ok, calm Nettle, you can do this. You can make a good impression.

"Thanks for the help," I say to them, awkwardly giving a short bow. An attempt at a handshake may be too forward. "Good thing you came when you did. Nettle Bonsai of District Seven, grateful for your support. You're a credit to Three and Four."

It's a relief that both of them smile, pleased to hear this, Urchin smiles shyly while Gadget blushes and stammers, her hands over her mouth. I wonder, is she unused to praise? Or, maybe she's just timid?

"You're welcome," Urchin says, running his hands through his, ah, _very_ noticeable curls. "We heard you screaming and felt it was the right thing to do to check what was going on."

"Y-yeah," Gadget adds, quietly. "We thought you were being tortured... wouldn't want that..."

"I'm in your debt," I tell them. "You know, we'd all live longer with more of us working together... perhaps it might be an idea if we all worked together? At least until the Careers are gone... we'd be less lonely and scared with more people together."

"Um... I'm not exactly much of an ally," Gadget says, stepping back.

"Not true," Urchin tells her. "You rewired the landmines into weapons. No other tribute ever did that before now. It was special."

Gadget mumbles quietly, her cheeks getting red. Something about it being 'no big deal' and how 'Urchin gave her the idea'. Honestly, if Urchin came up with that plan somehow and Gadget rewired them then that, to me at least, proves them as allies worth having.

"You two must be exhausted," I say to them. Sure enough, the two young ones look like they've hardly slept since the Games began. Oh so understandable if you ask me... "With Wood and I on your side then you can take a rest. Plus, we were gonna-."

Urchin yells in alarm suddenly, yanking Gadget towards him. A moment later a spear flies to where she had been standing, pinning into a tree a short distance away.

Nuts... did Wood _really_ just do that...?

"What do we do?!" Gadget squeals panicking. Her breathing is starting to get rapid and choked, like a serious anxiety attack. I've seen them here and there, read about them too.

"Run!" Urchin yells, quickly leading her away.

The two scramble away, ignoring my pleading for them to stay. I swiftly turn back to Wood, who only now scrambles up to where I am standing. Seems like his leg is already starting to get better, at least enough for him to walk. That medicine must have worked wonders.

But right now I don't look at his bloodied leg. I just scowl at him, right in the eye. Why oh why did he do that? I almost had an arrangement worked out for two more allies! He just had to get spear happy, didn't he?

"Darn it," he mutters, retrieving his spear. "Hey, I know I missed and I get it, that's kind of a load of shit, but you don't have to look at me like I just seduced your mom or something."

"My mom is dead," I say, matter-of-factly.

"Disclaimer, I do not seduce dead things," Wood remarks, chuckling. "But seriously, what's up? I know I missed, but if we run after them then we can still-."

"What's this about 'we can still'? Kill them? I wasn't at any point in time trying to kill them!" I say, stomping my foot. "What possibly gave you such a thought, Wood?"

"You were distracting them with that clever ploy so I could take a hit at them off-guard," he says, shrugging. He narrows his eyes. "Wait, what, were you actually-."

"-Being serious? Yes, I was," I say, coolly. "Gadget has bombs. Urchin has a short sword and must have some skills, having scored an eight. Most twelve year olds barely score a three! We could have really befitted!"

"Only one gets out," Wood says. He licks his lips for a moment, frowning. "Nettle dearest, enough with trying to make allies by being diplomatic etcetera. You have me, you really don't need anybody else. Not like a big alliance would last long anyway."

"But if they had accepted then we'd have more people on our side. To summarise; less people wanting us dead so soon, easier sleep shifts to work out, extra supplies, more individual talents to work out... and let's face it, we're both stronger than them physically," I say. I stand my ground, not backing down from this one. "If we're allies, we should both make choices and plans. You've made plenty so far and I agreed to your supply destroying idea. Why can't you give my plan a chance?"

Wood frowns, pacing. He winces a bit from his sore knee every now and then, but otherwise is silent as he gazes over me. He seems almost owlish, the way he's looking me over.

"I liked you better when you were passive and didn't think quite so much," he says, gripping his spear. This makes my heart rate quicken.

"Don't act so hasty Wood. Do you want to lose me as your ally? Would you, a self-professed patriot for Seven, harm your own District Partner before a time where I'd be the only one left? I don't think you'd really do it," I say, putting on my best frown. Nevertheless, I've scooped up my hatchet and hold it tight. I don't believe Wood is entirely stable.

We circle each other for a minute, silently. Our eyes are only on each other, our ears perked in case somebody comes by. It's one tense minute, each second its own individual moment of pain.

"You know, I may be a patriot for Seven... and you're right, I won't harm you, not unless you were the last one, in which case all bets are fucking off," he says, acknowledging the point I made. His eyes become sly as he narrows them. "But you're not just a resident of Seven, you're the mayor's daughter and, if you win, the girl who will one day lead our District. Well, as much as the position allows for anyway. You have even less right then me to leave this alliance or cause issues for me."

"Oh? And why might that be?" I ask. I step back a bit, making sure the circle we're walking is widening and leaving me further from Wood. "Plenty of District Partners argue at the best of times."

"Perhaps, but to just abandon your District Parter because you don't like the way they play the Hunger Games... play for their own _life_ , might I be so witty as to remind you... pretty uncool, that is," he says. At this, his grin becomes more than wolfish. I'd almost call it... well, is 'bearish' a word? In any case, that's how he looks. "What sort of a Mayor would sell out their own citizen over a disagreement? Not exactly something that a leader should be doing, if you were to ask me. What might those in Seven say? Tut-tut, that's what Nettle. All of the tuts."

"...You're manipulative, you know that?" I say to him. "A real snake in the woods."

"Oh, and you're not?" he asks me, putting on an exaggerated hurt expression. "You wound me Nettle."

Wood shakes his head, turning to leave in the opposite direction that Urchin and Gadget ran. He takes a few steps, but glances back to stare at me.

"If you want the kids from other Districts as your allies, by all means follow after them," he says, casually. "But, well, I'm from your actual home and if you died and I won, Seven as a whole still benefits from parcel day. You wanna deprive Seven of that chance? If you feel truly loyal to Seven, then follow after me. I'll walk slow, so don't worry about not being able to catch up. See you soon... or, will I?"

Whistling a tune - a District Seven workers tune, no less - Wood goes off on his way. Over a middy hill and down the other side. He's slow, but soon enough he's out of sight. Before long, I cannot hear his footsteps or whistling anymore.

I have to make a choice.

I could follow after Wood and keep things going as they are. I know we can fight well together. On the other hand, it's clear to me he is trying to manipulate me and take some power over me. I know it's life or death, but for my own odds it's not great. But, he sure knows how to word things to make them hurt and be hard to forget. To turn on him and just leave, it's not good for a future leader of Seven to do. At least, that's what I think. There's never been a mayor's child from Seven in the Games before now. I'm gonna be held to standards that have never been really tested before.

But, I don't have to follow him. I could instead turn away and try to catch up with Urchin and Gadget. I don't know them, but I can hopefully change that if I try hard enough. They seemed like they were starting to reconsider their words. Also, may I remind you, it was Wood who tried to attack Gadget, _**not**_ me. I'm not the one to blame... and, they did come and save us. The thing is, they're not physically strong so it won't exactly be a tough alliance if the bombs ever ran out. Though, if I were to ruin my pitch they could throw a landmine at me.

Hmmmmmm...

I glance at where Wood left and then I take a long look at the direction where the two younger tributes ran off. I continue to look between them as I grab up the bow and quiver of arrows that Glimmer dropped. I shouldn't leave these lying around, not when I might be able to use them. Only six arrows... could be worse.

It's not much longer before I make my choice and start jogging along to catch up as fast as I can before it ends up being too late.

After all, I don't know where Gadget and Urchin might prefer to hang around.

* * *

 **(Time goes by...)**

* * *

I've been wandering for a while now and it's starting to get dark. I'm starting to realise I may have been very foolish to leave Wood so soon. After all, he was the one carrying all of the food and the majority of the water. Lacking the backpack of supplies I once had, the hunger is starting to let in. With just a sip of water left, I just know the thirst will soon as well. I have weapons at least, but if I am too weak from starvation or dehydration will that matter?

For now, I just try to ignore the hunger and swallow my saliva to make the feeling go away, even if just slightly. I'm not sure if it's even working, but it's better than doing nothing.

Right now my only guide to where the youths of the Arena might be are the footprints in the ground. Even somebody like me with no real experience tracking has no issues following them. I just wonder, where will they lead me to? I grimace, imagining the thought of those two setting up a minefield and me literally walking to my death.

To top it all off, the rain has started up once again. No doubt the water level has already risen a few inches by now. I have to wonder, how many of the remaining tributes are even capable of swimming? I'm one of them, Urchin surely can. I bet the Careers can... but what about the rest?

I shake my head, keeping myself on track. Thoughts later, finding first. Finding Urchin and Gadget that is.

Keeping my pace swift I cover ground relatively quickly. I've reached a river bank before long, a key indicator that I am going off course. Indeed, the footprints are already leading me away from the water.

I freeze, hearing a shout. I crouch down, hatchet in hand as I look around in the darkness.

It's easy to spot the flashlight on the other side of the river - it's surprisingly wide, actually. At least twenty meters across. - and mercifully it's not being pointed towards me. I grimace, breathing slowly, my breathes visible in the chill of the night.

The flashlight is quick to illuminate somebody rushing through the forest, fear in their stride. Cinder! I'd know that fiery red hair anywhere, especially after spending a few hours with her a couple days ago.

"Get away from me! Please!" she squeals, begging her pursuer.

I hold my breathe, hardly daring to breath in case the chaser spots me as well. For all I know, they may have been sponsored a bow of their own.

It's not the Careers, thankfully, but I'd say Rammy is not much better when it comes to people to be chased by in a truly terrible death game. Seems the stab wound I inflicted to his foot isn't slowing him down much anymore. He's just limping ever so slightly, nothing worse than that. With his large axe in hand and how he's clearly bigger and stronger than Cinder, she's gonna be worse off than just limping soon enough.

"Prey is meant to be hunted," I hear Rammy boom. He can seriously be intimidating when he wants to be. "Come back! Makes it easier for us both."

Cinder doesn't obey, continuing to flee into the night. She's a clever one with how she make sure to rough up the terrain as much as she can and throw small rocks and branches at Rammy to slow him down. He's clearly being put under pressure, but he presses on regardless.

Cinder climbs her way up the muddy slope and Rammy does the same. It suddenly occurs to me... I could save Cinder, here and now. I'm not an expert at archery, but one arrow shot anywhere at Rammy... dead or not, Cinder would be able to escape from him and live another day.

She did, after all, come back for me and help me up when I tripped near those crocodile mutts.

I have the bow out before I really think over what I am doing, starting to notch an arrow. Rammy's flashlight makes his form impossible to miss... well, I'd hope. I keep my gaze on him pulling back on the bow slowly but surely.

I have my tongue between my teeth, focusing hard.

I don't even get to fire before Cinder suddenly stops struggling and squealing, instead becoming focused and harsh, kicking her leg back and hitting Rammy right in the face.

"Arrgh! Blast it!" Rammy yells, tumbling down the hill towards the mud.

Cinder gets up to the top of the hill and is gone without another word, safe without a need for me to interfere.

I keep looking at Rammy for a moment, my bow still raised and ready.

I lower it, shaking my head. I need to catch up with Urchin and Gadget first and foremost. Rammy's a river away and lacks a way to hurt me now. He's not the central conflict towards me at the moment, and with the blood that I can see gushing from his nose perhaps he won't be in the end?

I scamper off, out of the area before he can start to get back up to his feet. He's certainly resilient, I'll give him that much. Maybe he could still be a threat, more than I currently think.

Doesn't matter now, I'm already sprinting through the forest in the opposite direction from him. Alright, time to keep tracking.

* * *

 **(Not much later...)**

* * *

The Anthem will probably be starting very soon, no doubt about it. I've shivering, my teeth chattering. I sure wish somebody would sponsor me a blanket. Preferable one of the fancy self-heating ones they had in the training centre. It would be very much appreciated.

On the plus side, shelter is near. The rain has slightly lessened, and up ahead I can see a cave. Best of all, it has a lovely warm fire lit inside it. As if that wasn't an obvious enough indicator of human life I can see a pair of silhouettes sitting by it, warming themselves and talking. About what, though, I have no idea.

Hopefully the fact I put away my weapons will make them more willing to hear me out. If they won't, then I'll have made the worst choice of this decade of Hunger Games so far. Come on, self, now is not the time to be cynical.

As I approach the cave, I start to overhear what they are talking about. I guess stealth isn't their main concern tonight. If only I was that brave... I mean, if it's bravery and not foolishness. Though, with this downpour, it's not likely many people would be out and about at this hour. Then again, here I am now.

"I'm just saying, maybe we should go and find her again tomorrow if she's still around there," Urchin says, sitting beside Gadget. "She wasn't the one who tried to kill you."

"Yeah, b-but she might be with the other guy," Gadget replies, shivering. I'd say i's more from fear than cold. "He'd hurt us! He almost did today..."

"I'd protect you," Urchin says. He sound nervous, but oh so sincere. "I'm not letting him hurt you. Not my closest friend in this forest."

"I'm your, uh, only friend... right?" Gadget replies.

"All the more reason for us to stick together," Urchin says. He draws up his knees a bit. "Whatever happens, I just don't want to be alone when it ends... one way or the other."

"The Victor would be alone. You can't win with another person..." Gadget mumbles, saddened at the thought.

"I guess so," Urchin says. "It's just, it'd be nice if one year they would... uh, Gadget, we're not alone."

Urchin looks directly at me, meeting my gaze. Gadget does the same a moment later, squealing and quickly scampering backwards into the shadows. As I walk closer, the fire starting to give me the briefest flickers of warmth, I see the colour has drained from her face. She hunches up, afraid of me.

I feel a pang of pain in me, that me just standing here has her so scared. It feels all the more awkward due to how she'd tower over me if she were standing up as well.

Urchin doesn't panic, but he's guarded in his stance. I don't miss the fact his hand is on the handle of his short sword.

I try to focus on the fact they were likely talking about me before I interrupted them and that it was positive stuff. I can make this work.

"It's just me, nobody else," I say, raising up my hands. "Wood gave me a choice; him, or you guys. I felt the odds would be better for me with you two."

They're silent and Gadget is still shaking, but Urchin seems less guarded than before. I risk moving closer.

"Honestly, I was furious at him for trying to kill you when I was trying to build bridges and set up a beneficially alliance for all of us," I say, keeping my hands up. "...You don't need to worry. Wood has almost all of our supplies. I don't have much."

"You have an axe," Gadget squeaks.

"And you guys have landmines," I reply. I give her what I hope is a patient look. "You have better equipment, what can I really do? Tiny, outnumbered and you two better armed... my only goal here is diplomacy. I want to work with you two."

Gadget doesn't seem to be concerned, still cowering, but Urchin is thinking it over and nods.

"I'd be alright with it," he says, glancing at Gadget. "Are you alright with this. Not much of an alliance if we don't work it out together. Whatever keeps us safe and... um... alive."

Gadget mumbles 'alright' as quietly as I think is possible.

"But don't try anything funny!" he adds, gesturing for me to sit down.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I promise, sitting by the fire. I manage to wearily smile in bliss as the warmth overtakes me.

For a little while, we're silent as we sit by the fire. Only the rainfall and the crackle of the fire can be heard, along with the occasional hoot of an owl. A spooky night as usual, but at least it'll be dry in here.

"So... how did you guys end up working together?" I ask, trying to start conversation. Where there is a good talk, there is a chance to bond.

"We ended up coming across each other after the bloodbath," Urchin says, shivering at the ghastly memory. "I was panicking and screaming, Gadget was crying and pleading for mercy. I don't know how it started but she kind of just ended up crying into each other's shoulders. When Gadget mentioned wishing she, uh... jumped onto the landmines... I mentioned how it'd be great if we could use them to blow up mutts. Gadget mentioned that she could reactivate them, given enough time."

He taps his chin as he looks at me.

"I think I saw you, actually, running away from the Cornucopia clearing around sunset. You gave us both a fright; we thought the place would be empty," he says, chuckling very nervously.

"We were scared that the Careers were still there..." Gadget says, her eyes wide. "It was a very rough first night..."

"It could have been worse," Urchin says, staring at the fire again. "It was nice, you holding me a bit... not a nice night, but... I don't know. I'm just glad I stopped it being even worse for you, y'know?"

"I'm grateful," Gadget says. She looks at me for a moment, before quickly looking away.

We're silent again, just trying to keep warm. Both the pair look sleepy, in need of a good rest. I guess I'll take first watch, if they'll let me.

"You really turned away from your District Partner?" Urchin asks me, sounding surprised. "That doesn't happen often. I wish Marina was still alive... she was a nice girl, you know? I knew I could trust her, I just knew it. But then... I don't know who did it, but I saw her body when I ran and... and..."

He trails off, fighting back some tears.

"Nevermind," he says, gripping his curls. "I just wish I had her here like how you had Wood."

Gadget looks sympathetic, but shrinks back when she sees me looking.

"Did you and Weldar get along? Close at all?" I ask her, curious.

She just shakes her head, very distant all of a sudden. Perhaps it's a hard topic for her. What do I know about her life in Three, or the life Weldar had? Nothing at all. But if the topic upsets her, I'll drop it.

Eventually, Urchin passes me a pack of meat. I give him my thanks, quickly wolfing it down in a way not remotely lady like. But, it's the Arena, manners were thrown out when I was launched, let's be honest. As I eat, it occurs to me that a lot of the talking between these two has stopped. I guess it's understandable though; they did let me in fairly quick and might not really know what to say now. They don't know me, no more than I can claim to know them.

"So... what's the plan?" I ask them. "Anything in mind for tomorrow? Well, besides avoiding death. That much was implied."

"That's basically it..." Gadget mumbles.

"Yeah, we've not really had any solid plans except at the start when we dug up the landmines," Urchin adds, warming his hands by the fire, rubbing them a bit. "It's mainly just been us walking through the wetlands and avoiding the deep water. Oh, and blowing up mutts or debris blocking our way."

"Sounds like a better plan than tributes have had in years gone by," I say to him. "Say, how many landmines do you have anyway?"

Urchin frowns, as if doing the math in his head. He gives a helpless shrug.

"A bunch?" he says.

"Twenty four..." Gadget mumbles. "We had forty, we've used sixteen so far so that's twenty four in the sack behind me. Don't touch it; they're not active yet, but I'd rather not take a chance."

That's a lot landmines. With that kind of firepower you could blow up almost anything, really. A tree, a mutt or several, a building, maybe the Cornucopia or... wait...

...

"...Guys, I have an idea," I say to them. "I feel a touch like a hypocrite for bring this up when I wasn't so receptive when Wood bought it up to me last night, but I think this one could really work out for us."

"What's on your mind?" Urchin asks. "I'm not really one for taking too many risks."

"Yeah..." Gadget agrees, shivering.

"Well, I happen to know where the Careers have their camp. They moved it once the Cornucopia got submerged, and they took tons of supplies with it," I say, sitting up straight. "Now, what's a Career without supplies?"

"Hungry and miserable," Urchin says promptly. "Kinda like the rest of us."

"Exactly, and unlike us they have no foraging skills," I say, nodding. "So, what happens if you throw a landmine at a building or a tree?"

"Destruction..." Gadget mumbles.

"Lots of it," Urchin agrees. "I never knew these things were so... loud."

"Well, if it can do that to trees and a building, probably, imagine what would happen if the landmines were thrown at the Careers' supplies," I say, narrowing my eyes. Confidence is growing in me. "They'd lose their biggest upper hand, that's what!"

"A raid on the Careers?" Urchin asks, wide eyed. "Us? Gee, I don't know... it's risky... and sudden... but then again it's not like I have any chance to fight them as they are now and I'm only gonna get weaker."

"I'm not gonna force you two to do anything," I assure him. "In fact, I'm honestly fine to just walk around and follow you two wherever we go. I'd only want to go through with this if both of you are alright with it. Wood wanted to do this, but I'm not sure if he'd do it when he's alone and has a wounded knee."

I frown to myself, thinking over my District Partner. I probably acted rashly and very in-the-moment with our last conversation. Amazing, really, how much of the biggest things in the Hunger Games have always been in-the-moment and not having tons of thought added to them.

I hope he's alright. I made the choice I felt was best for me, but I still worry.

Urchin and Gadget have moved very close, whispering to each other. Well, mainly Urchin is and Gadget's not saying much in response besides quiet one word mumbles. I just sit patiently, keeping an eye out for trouble outside the cave.

"We've talked it over," Urchin says. "And, uh, it's certainly risky. But, if it works then our odds become a lot better. I'm scared, but if we leave them with their supplies they'll just be well fed and we'll starve and then it's just like a normal year, isn't it? We're in."

Gadget nods silently. It's hard to see past the fear in her eyes and form, but I think I saw a tiny flicker of energy in there. A hidden nerve, perhaps.

"Tomorrow, we move out," she says, quietly. Though this time her voice is steady. "I can't lie, the idea has me afraid."

"It's alright to be scared," Urchin says, gently laying a hand on hers. "I've been scared of a lot of things ever since I was five."

Gadget smiles, seeming a touch awkward over the hand contact but nonetheless her smile is unmissable.

"Thanks," she whispers.

"You're welcome," Urchin says. "Gotta look out for people... or try to, right? I look out for Ula as much as I can. I'll do the same for you."

"Who's Ula?" I ask him. "Girlfriend?"

Urchin gives me a very funny look, as if wielded out.

"Ick, no! She's my sister," he says, shaking his head. "She's precious to me."

I stammer, trying to quickly apologise for the blunder. How foolish of me to presume things so fast. Gadget, meanwhile, softly giggles over all this.

"Must be nice having a sister," she says. "Just got three brothers... kind of."

Before I can ask Gadget what she means we're all silenced as the Anthem starts to play. I stay where I am, knowing what I will see, while Urchin and Gadget slowly move to the front of the cave to look up at the sky, grimness in their eyes.

As the Anthem plays, I just stare at the fire and think of Lace. It feels sickly in my stomach to have witnessed the way she died. She was just as young as Gadget, maybe younger, and not much older than Urchin. Being around these two and seeing the younger tributes live and breath makes my insides crawl awfully. It makes Lace's death even more depressing and needless.

As much as I think I need the bow, it feels dirty in a way that I am carrying the weapon that killed her. I have the bow, Wood has the arrows. I don't know, it just feels sick.

Urchin and Gadget come back after the Anthem is over. Both seem depressed as they sit down by the fire once more.

"...I saw her die," I say, quietly. "It wasn't fun to witness it. I won't sugar coat as you deserve to be treated as equals here, age being irrelevant. By any chance, did you two get along with her? Lace mentioned she had wanted to ally with you both."

This makes their expressions drop even more. Perhaps I should just drop it at this point.

"She seemed like a nice person. I never saw her cry or frown even once," Urchin says, not making eye contact. "She didn't deserve that, at least to me."

Gadget gives a slow nod.

"I didn't really know her," Gadget says. "I wouldn't have minded it though. I think a bit of optimism and a smile would've been nice to have around. Maybe it's just the trauma and inner screams of the mind talking, but... I thought her smile was pretty."

Gadget lays down, facing away from us.

"Let's rest," she mumbles. "This is getting too sad..."

"I'll take the first watch," I say, turning to face the rain. "You two get some sleep."

"Sure you don't want help? I can stay up," Urchin offers. He can't hide the fatigue in his eyes though."

"I have it under the control," I assure him. "You can have second watch, if you'd like? ...Sorry, am I being bossy here? Just that, you two seem more tired than I am."

"It's true," he says, yawning.

Before long, both of my new allies are fast asleep by the fire. After how they saved me, and Wood, today I would say they've earned a good rest. As for me, I think I can handle being their guard for a few hours. The only tributes nearby are Cinder and Rammy, and for all I know they could be long gone. If not though, Cinder is somebody I think could be trusted at least for one night.

As for Rammy, well, he's seen better days. Three on one when he's been wounded, I think he's be smart enough to decide against that.

I let the time go by as I listen to the rain. Serene, peaceful, relaxing...

Quite unlike the explosions that will be engulfing the Careers' supplies tomorrow. On a related note, I wonder how many miles Cato's screams of rage could be heard for. I suppose I'll be finding that out.

Glancing at my sleeping allies, I feel something in me. Perhaps a sense of responsibility. Tomorrow, my skills of leadership will be truly put to the ultimate test.

Wait, that's ever so presumptuous. I'd not mind following their lead either.

It doesn't matter who leads, so long as those supplies get destroyed.

* * *

 **END OF DAY 5...**

* * *

 **REMAINING TRIBUTES**

Marvel (District 1 Male)

Glimmer (District 1 Female)

Cato (District 2 Male)

Gadget (District 3 Female)

Urchin (District 4 Male)

Cinder (District 5 Female)

Wood (District 7 Male)

Nettle (District 7 Female)

Rammy (District 10 Male)

Katniss (District 12 Female)

* * *

 **THE FALLEN**

11th- **Lacey (District 8 Female)** \- Shot repeatedly with arrows, by Glimmer.

12th- **Peeta (District 12 Male)** \- Beaten relentlessly, by Cato.

13th- **Rue (District 11 Female)** – Spear thrown into chest, by Wood.

14th- **Clove (District 2 Female)** \- Drowned, by Nettle.

15th- **Weldar (District 3 Female)** \- Asphyxiated with a rope, by Rammy.

16th- **Jason (District 6 Male)** – Slashed several times in the stomach with a scythe, by Cato.

17th- **Sparky (District 5 Male)** – Speared in the gut with a spear and then stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Wood.

18th- **Sickle (District 9 Female)** – Stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Glimmer.

19th- **Thresh (District 11 Male)** – Disembowelled with a machete, by Cato.

20th- **Marina (District 4 Female)** \- Struck in the neck with an axe by Weldar.

21st- **Miller (District 9 Female)** – Knife thrown into back, by Clove.

22nd- **Tamora (District 6 Female)** – Stabbed repeatedly in the gut, by Glimmer.

23rd- **Sable (District 10 Female)** – Stuck in the skull with an axe, by Cato.

24th- **Callico (District 8 Male)** – Stabbed with a kukri, by Marvel.

* * *

 **TRIBUTE NOTES**

 **Lacey:** Ever the comic relief type of character when she shows up in a 74th Games story, she was fun to write for per the norm. I'll admit, given how she has changed in a certain other timeline it felt a bit weird to make the transition back to how she acts at the start of each timeline without the development she has gained elsewhere as time went by, that being the goofy, silly one of the gang. Not a bad thing though, as despite her lower appearances here I think she had some good moments like standing up to Marvel with the packet of fish of all things (10 points if you get the reference there!), and even in this chapter I felt she had good lines and a decent showing before the arrows were fired. I think in general if she's not set to be a main player, Lacey generally works best in more light occasional noses. She's funny and goofy, but too much in one go has, in the past, proved to kind of come off a bit awkwardly. A shame for her to die this early - if day 5 counts as early, that is - but she wasn't as huge a player this time, mainly here for some laughs and the prelude to serious drama that followed after both her main scenes. I also figured after her big role in BB, it only made sense she do a bit less in this story to compensate. Better luck next timeline, Lacey. :(


	6. Day 6: Murderous Marshlands

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games.

 **Note:** Another chapter! Certainly has a lot of fun writing this one; I think flooding the Arena in this timeline to make the once familiar forest a truly different, haunting place was a solid move. Keeps it all fresh, haha. Not really much to say other than how I feel content over this one... except one thing; as an open question to all who read this story, if you were a tribute what do you think your tribute score would be? Thinking back to myself when I was 18 and thus reaping age, I'd say I'd score a 4. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

It's been another wet morning, the downpour having returned with a vengeance. I am starting tu suspect that the Games have been put on a sort of time limit; kill the rest and be the last one standing, or have the entire Arena swallowed by water and pray that you swim the best or evade the crocodiles the longest.

Due to how high some of the more distant parts of the Arena are I take some comfort that this won't be a likely scenario and that maybe, just maybe, I won't see a crocodile again. Of course, if the Gamemakers wanted to flood the place in five minutes then they very easily could. Maybe I should be grateful it's not worse than it is.

Right now I'm walking with Urchin and Gadget through the forest, all of us with our hoods up and weapons in our hands, besides Gadget. She's carrying a cardboard box of some sort, one sponsored by Finnick a while ago. How lucky for Urchin he has such a popular Victor as his Mentor. No, his Uncle in fact! Kind of balances out how he was unlucky enough to be reaped wit his name in just once.

Anyway, I'm leading the pair in the direction where I am sure the Careers' campsite is located. Not exactly nearby at this point after all the running I did away from it, but not impossible to get back to it. Besides, if we're moving it lowers the chance of a Mutt attack. But with Gadget's landmines is that really such a big deal anymore?

One thought of the Mud Mutt I saw the other day has me realise that, yes, it is.

Everything is so wet, the trees soaked to the bark and the forest ground squishy beneath our boots. More than once we've had to stop because Urchin has had trouble making progress due to his shorter legs getting stuck or due to Gadget tripping over something. It seems being short is as much a disadvantage as being tall. I know this is true for myself as well after I spent five minutes trying to climb the same mud hill.

As we reach the high ground of the grove we've been moving our way through, Gadget sneezes. She shivers from the cold, looking fairly upset. If she's catching a cold, this could be dangerous both for her and us. It starts as a cold, but often-times in the Arena this will end up turning into pneumonia or something else nobody wants.

"How bad is it?" I ask her.

"Sucky," she says, quietly as always. "It's cold. I'm used to the cold, but not constant downpours like this."

She glances at Urchin, the only one among us who doesn't seem upset by the cold rain. After a moment he notices we're looking at him.

"What?" he asks.

"How can you be fine with the downpour?" Gadget asks him, shivering.

"Well, I'm from Four. It's, uh, by the sea," he explains. "I've been on boats out in the fishing waters during storms. This isn't really much when compared to that. At least here we're not fully submerged by the sea."

I guess, being from the District of Fishing, Urchin would do fine in wet weather. His older, stronger and dead-er District Partner would have likely done fine as well, had she lived past the first day. Sick to say it, but that girl would've been serious competition in a place like this... a demonic part of me feels relieved somebody did the dirty work for me and I don't have to worry over her killing me, or simply outlasting me.

Not to say my allies will be easy to outlive either. With Urchin being fine in this weather and Gadget having bombs it's gonna be tough. Not just physically, but emotionally. Can I... really kill two youths like them to go home?

Perhaps I won't have to. Somebody else may do it instead. Until then, I'll do my best to look out for them and hope they do the same for me.

"Sea or not, it's freezing," Gadget shudders, huddling herself. "I can't wait until we find shelter tonight and sit by the fire... if we live that long."

I'm about to tell her it is likely that we will, not wanting to outright promise anything, but Urchin beats me to it.

"We'll be fine," he tells her. "Three of us, and we have bombs. We also have a boat in that box... yeah, I think our odds are really good."

"You really mean it?" Gadget asks.

"...I do," he says, nodding. "You know, uh... if you're really cold t-t-then we could, um, huddle if you need to, later?"

Urchin's voice cracks badly as he speaks but Gadget doesn't seem to mind. She gives a small, timid smile and looks quite grateful.

"Would you? That's nice..." she whispers, nodding.

As we walk onwards together, carefully going down the slope to where a large expanse of water looms for what may be miles, two things are apparent. Two things besides the weather being ever so horrendous, that is.

Firstly, we have a boat in that box. How did I not realise this? Sure, it's unmarked and Urchin didn't let us see the note Finnick wrote, but with the size of it and all the water... anyway, this is most excellent news. Even if it's just an inflatable boat it'll still be a great way to cross the flooded marshes. I'd hope, though, it'd be reinforced in some way. Crocodiles are still a very real danger, even if we'd be safer on the water than anybody else.

Secondly, it would appear that Urchin has a bit of a crush on Gadget. Honestly, thinking about it, this is... adorable! Oh, I am ever so much a sucker for romance no matter what it is. Just think what may happen if Gadget likes him back. Why, their first date would be... oh... right...

It's a doomed romance, one way or the other. Even if anything happens, the claws of death will snatch it all away. Why must romance stories often end in tragedy? It just seems to be the trend of things. Alas, I can't help but like the idea of young love all the same.

I try my hardest to not think of my own lover many miles away. The heartache is too much.

Coming to a stop together by the water we stare out into the marshes. The water is so dirty it's impossible to see more than an inch within it. Drinking it would be suicide, a quick way to lose the Hunger Games. I'd not dare to swim in it either. Full of danger, and _germs_. Ick!

"This is as far as we can go," I state the obvious, glancing around. "So, boat time I would think."

"I agree," Urchin says, gently taking the box from Gadget and opening it up. He visible smiles when he sees the inflatable raft. "Nice, we have these in Four you know. They use these when a ship goes down and a quick escape needs to be made. The material is really tough."

"Could a crocodile bite through it?" I ask, unsure. I mean, if it's not metal then who is to say a crocodiles jaws will not destroy it?

"Sharks can't, so a crocodile probably can't. Uh, I think?" he says, now looking nervous.

"Not like we have any other plans..." Gadget says, glancing at the clouds.

Indeed not. Urchin quickly works on inflating the raft with the pump that came with it. I consider offering to do it for him, but Urchin appears to know what he is doing. It's strange that a boy so small and scrawny is able to work the pump so fast, but it's not as if I have any right to judge when I'm hardly what one could call strong. So long as he gets it done, that's what matters.

That's exactly what he does. The raft is quickly inflated and gently set onto the water. We all climb into it with all our supplies, and Urchin gives us a push off from the shore. With that, we're off on our way through the marshes. Urchin takes out a foldable oar from the boat box, keeping us moving along and steering us away from any floating debris.

I waft my hand in front of my face to try and disperse the smell, but it's a futile endeavourer. Hopefully I'll get used to it soon enough, like how the scent of the forest back home is just second nature for me to smell day to day.

"Can't we go any faster?" I ask.

"We'd need a boat engine or another oar," Urchin says, shaking his head. "This is the best we can do right now."

I nod, accepting the reasoning. At least out here on the open marsh we're theoretically safe from the Careers and other tributes. Glimmer's bow is now mine, and Marvel can only throw spears so far, so all they could really do is shout at us. I smile, relaxing for a moment.

"Nettle..." Gadget whimpers suddenly.

She points ahead. Shit... a crocodile. It's passive right now, not doing a thing except floating in place. As if it were merely relaxing in the rain. Thankfully it's the only one in sight, but it's certain to become a problem if we get closer to it.

"Landmine?" I suggest.

"I can't throw them that far," Gadget says, shivering. "If we get close t-t-then it'll eat us..."

"Oh, Nettle, you can shoot it with an arrow right?" Urchin says. He, too, looks nervous. "Shame we don't have a harpoon."

"I'm not really trained with a bow and arrow," I tell him awkwardly. "I mainly grabbed it so nobody else could use it. Uh... can't Finnick sponsor a harpoon?"

Urchin shakes his head, frowning. He sighs, as if resigned.

"Finnick's great, really cool... people love him. But, it doesn't matter who he is and how I'm related. I'm still twelve; most people don't sponsor twelve year olds," he explains, frowning. "That's why I made the run to the Cornucopia, I _needed_ supplies."

"Same," Gadget mumbles. "Thirteen year olds get overlooked too and I'm the statistic weakest of us all. I was tempted to just run for my life at the start, but if I had run away... maybe I'd just be starving in addition to freezing. I don't know..."

I frown, unable to keep a pang out of my chest. It's a sad reality that younger tributes just tend to get ignored and lack much in the way of sponsors because of how they're simply the statistic weakest and also the least able to 'put on a show'. It's rare that they last longer than the first few days and, as their age bracket has never won, it creates a stigma that effects them all.

While most do not remember it... having read some of the quite old books in the manor's library, I'm aware that there actually was a twelve year old who placed third. The District Eleven male from the first Games.

He killed himself.

Nobody of such a young age has ever made it that far ever since, and with the existence of Careers... will it ever happen? I'm not sure.

Looking at my allies, I try to push such thoughts out of my mind. I'd rather not see them laying sprawled out, nothing but corpses. It would be... most uncharming.

"I'll see what I can do about the crocodile," I say, readying myself to notch an arrow. "Nobody move, I need the boat stable for this."

Urchin ceases the oar movements, making us come to a gentle stop. Slowly, I sit up, kneeling as I notch an arrow into the bow and aim out at the crocodile.

I can see it just fine, lazily floating a distance away. It's blocking the most direct route to the Careers' camp, but I suspect if we tried to go around it then the Gamemakers would just send it after us anyway. No, the only thing to do is kill it.

I just pray that I shall not miss.

My breath is slow, a contrast to my quickly beating heart. I've pulled back the string, aiming carefully. _Please_ , let my aim be true. I'm not a professional, but it's not as though the crocodile is a small target.

I let the arrow fly.

The beast lets out a guttural roar, the arrow sticking out from the area that I would call it's neck. Do crocodiles have necks, per-say? Whether they do or don't, the shot has the beast leaking a lot of blood. It starts to swim away, but before long it sinks. A few moments later it flows again, this time lifelessly.

Urchin starts rowing the oar again, the danger now passed.

"That was a good shot," he says. "You should have scored higher than a six."

"Well actually, I..." I pause for a moment. It may have been luck, but thy do not need to know that. "I guess you're right. Maybe I should have scored a seven, to match my District."

We're silent as we continue to row along through the swamp. Nothing to really say, I guess. As we move along I can't help but reach back and trace my hand along the quiver. Just five arrows left. The bow probably won't be a weapon to rely on, not for very long. Wood has arrows, but he won't share them, not now.

If we can grab some good supplies before we blow them up, though, perhaps it won't matter. I'd love to get my backpack and all the stuff inside it back, at the very least.

"Gadget, Nettle, over there," Urchin whispers. "She's watching us..."

Gadget shudders fearfully as we turn in usion to look towards the shore. I'd half-expected to see Glimmer, the female tribute who I think - of those still alive - poses the greatest threat to me. However, it's not her.

It's Cinder. She stands by the bank of the marsh, tired, watching us as we go by. We meet each other's gaze for a moment. Now, I know Cinder to a small degree; she was a reliable ally in the hours we worked together. But do Urchin and Gadget know her? Based on Urchin's unease and Gadget's fear I would assume not.

Like they said, people did not talk particularly much in the training centre. If I recall it right Cinder only spoke a lot to one person, besides her District Partner. The boy from Nine, wasn't it? That sure didn't pan out in the end. Maybe, though, the four of us could be something...

What harm is there in offering it to her? Worst she can do is say no. Especially as I see no ranged weaponry on her.

"Guys," I whisper to my allies. "That's Cinder, from District Five. I worked with her to overcome rough terrain a few days ago... how about we see if we can get another ally on our side? We'd only benefit."

"Or get shanked," Gadget moans.

"Maybe," Urchin gulps. "But... well, Gadget, we took a chance with Nettle and it's worked out well. Maybe at least offering would be safe enough?"

Gadget just nods, not putting up any fight at all. I wonder, is her passiveness just out of fear that a disagreement could result in violence or is she really that lacking in confidence? I can't say I'm sure either way, but neither option is good for her mental state. I don't want either of these two, or myself for that matter, going crazy and doing what is known as 'pulling a Titus'.

"Cinder!" I call out to her. "Fancy hitching a ride on our boat? We have plenty of room for one more, especially one who isn't particularly heavy."

"Uh, I think I'm alright," she says, quickly. "I'm not in any pressing need to get a move on anywhere."

"I saw Rammy was after you last night," I tell her. "Nice work fighting him off, of course, but he'll be lurking. Really, it might help all of us if you hop on board. Four is stronger than three... and certainly stronger than one."

Cinder frowns, thinking quickly to herself. I signal to Urchin to move us in closer, just in case she changes her mind.

"Alright then," she says, nodding. "But, I'm not exactly saying I'll stay with you guys for days. I work better with temporary agreements and then flying solo. Just who I am."

"Glad to have you aboard," I say, helping Cinder into the raft. Thankfully, she's not particularly big so we remain floating and balanced just fine. "Alright Urchin, off we go."

"Alright, let's set sail!" he announces, starting to row again. Hm, seems like boat rowing has raised his mood. I guess it must be the sense of familiarity.

"All aboard the S.S Dead Kids Walking..." Gadget mumbles, staring out into space.

We're all silent as we once again continue to float along through the marshes. Not just from that depressing, and very much real, remark but also just how eerie it is. The rain, the distant crickets, the grime, everything really... it's a ghastly voyage that we're on.

Cinder sits beside me, silent. She looks at Urchin and then Gadget. Lastly, she looks at me for the briefest of moments.

"It's nice that you're not dead yet," she says. "...I appreciate the help you gave me on the second day. Thanks again for finding my token for me."

"You're welcome. It's part of you, and part of Five's very culture," I say to her. "I'd not want my token getting lost."

I rummage into my pocket and show the token to her. She admires the tiki, her foxy eyes widening with intrigue. Muttering to herself about 'supreme craftsmanship' she nods in approval.

"Very nice," she says. "Makes my own token feel almost cheap in comparison."

"It's yours, that makes it special," I say to her. I mean, firstly it's true and secondly the happier she is with me the lower risk of a backstab... yes, I am paranoid. What of it, exactly?

Urchin slows his rowing for a moment, glancing back at us.

"We talking about tokens?" he asks, sounding interested. He rummages in his jacket's pocket. "Here's mine. Cool, huh?"

Cool is one word for it, though personally I'd call the ancient, dried starfish 'fascinating'. I wonder how old that thing must be.

"It's from before the Dark Days, I think," he says, as if sensing my question.

"Is it edible?" Cinder asks. "I've heard some starfish are."

"I've never tried," Urchin says. "But, it's dried out so it'd probably taste gross. Hey Gadget, what's your token?"

Gadget glances up at us, looking unsure. Slowly, she takes a microchip from her pocket.

"Something from mommy..." she says, offering no further explanation.

"It looks nice," I say. "I mean, I'm no expert, but among microchips I'm sure it's probably really neat. You guys have some really intriguing tokens. Everybody does."

"You've seen others?" Cinder asks me, curious. "Who else showed you?"

"Uh, technically nobody... in a manner of speaking," I say. I rummage in my pockets and hold out the tokens of the dead which I've collected so far. Weld's family photo, Lacey's sock and Clove's hairclip. "If I get out of here, I'll return them to the families on the Victory Tour."

"What if you, uh, lose?" Urchin asks, steering us past a large floating log.

"I guess they'd go to the Tribute Museum," I say. The thought of such a place feels... wrong. I'm sure in terms of the economy it serves a function, but only for the Capitol. Seven has never seen any of the money we're surely owed, be it royalties or from basic decency. If I was president... "Creepy isn't it, people looking at some of the tokens, like Weld's family photo."

"It's a certain type of sentimental," Cinder says. "A spooky type."

"I'm just amazed a starfish would have such appeal," Urchin adds. "Wait, no, if it did then I'd be dead. Wouldn't want that..."

Gadget mumbles something, a bit too quiet for me to hear.

"Say again?" I ask her.

"Weldar. His name was Weldar, not Weld," she tells me.

I'm silent as Urchin rows us along through the vile marshlands. That's another person whose name I've gotten wrong. First I said Ramsay instead of Rammy and now it's Weldar instead of Weld.

For that matter, is Lace really called Lace or is that, too, me remembering it wrong? It's certainly possible at this point. I just sit quietly, keeping an eye out for trouble and hoping the stench of the swamp might drown out the embarrassment.

"So, where are we going?" Cinder asks. "Just crossing the marshlands and avoiding the rising water?"

"That's a beneficial side effect," I tell her. "We're gonna blow up the Careers' supplies with landmines. Let them feel the hunger that is the name of these games just like we have to."

"Sounds risky," she says, frowning in unease.

"Perhaps, but the rewards are great," I state, peering ahead in case of any trouble. None there, thankfully "Weakened Careers."

Cinder nods slowly, conceding to the point. It's a fact' none of us could take on those three, even if it were us four together against them... maybe with the landmines... it's a big maybe though and could go wrong. Gradually weakening them through hunger works better long-term. That's part of politics, so says my father. Planning for the long term.

Politics are familiar. They're workable. They _make sense_. Making the Hunger Games play out under them in some ways, it just makes me feel better. More confident.

"Um..." Gadget tries to say something but trails off.

I glance where she was looking and quell my groan. Another person is nearby, walking along the banks of the marshes, a good distance from us. Even from here, there is really no mistaking the black jacket. It's Katniss.

Seems she's having a fairly bad day, though. By the looks of it she's soaked and, just from a glance at how she stomps along, ever so pissed off. Part of me worries that she might see us and call us over for a transport across the marshes. Having half the remaining tributes in one tiny place... no, I think not. Too cramped, too risky and I think it'd be practically asking for a trap to separate us.

Adding to that, I just don't trust Katniss. Not to say I dislike her, but I just feel like I'd have a very hard time putting my life in her hands. Maybe as she seems so tough and nails and an overall loner. Or, perhaps, I'm just judgemental. It's possible.

"Look, it's Katniss," Urchin says, pointing her out. Nuts. "Perhaps we could pick her up too? More company, another ally..."

Absolutely not! That girl scored an eleven and could easily kill us all if she so chose. She's a survivor and if ever there was a girl from Twelve to be a Victor and show up everybody else, it's her. Can we trust her, even? I don't! Our odds all get better if she's left in the rain, cruel as it may sound.

That is what I would like to say.

"I don't think we should," I say instead. "We don't know her and we're six days in. It'd be hard to form an alliance by now, and she didn't seem very trusting in training."

Urchin accepts the reasoning with a quick nod, continuing to row us along. We pass by Katniss distantly. I keep watching her though, just in case she does anything that I may benefit from having witnessed.

A crocodile lunges out of the water at her.

She stabs the beast in the eye with her knife, purely by reflex. The mutt dies swiftly and once again she's back to grumpily marching her way along.

"Send me a shoe making kit! I'll make boots out of it!" she announces, sarcastically.

A few moments pass before a parachute is sent down towards her. Her relief becomes anger with much haste.

"I was being sarcastic!" she yells. "Urrggh... thanks anyway?"

It would be a bad idea to respond with anger to a Sponsor gift. Sometimes Mentor's select what to do with funding, but other times a rich sponsor demands an exact item to be sent into the Arena. Believe me, it's never a good idea to insult sponsors. It means less money, less gifts... more chance of a trap being sprung, often with mutts.

As we sail further down the expansive marshes I cannot help but wonder, though... what use is a shoe making kit in this forest? I can only ponder hopelessly as to why it was ever put on the list of available sponsor gifts.

The Capitol is ever so strange.

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

It's been a bit of a strange sort of journey we've been on. The four of us continue our way down the marsh, Urchin steering us past any debris and safely along the 'path' for lack of a better term. River just doesn't feel applicable here. Anyway, we're silent in the boat upon the disgusting swamp but that's not really the strange part. As I stated, it's a ghastly voyage.

No, it's just that we've not really lost track of Katniss for the past hour. She continues to walk along the riverbank, slaughtering a crocodile mutt every now and then when one tries to attack her. Even when the water takes a detour from her we're soon enough back nearby and seeing her again. I really wish we could just go another way and leave her behind, but it seems the water has different plans. There's just nowhere else to go but the way we're going. After the wide open area we were at before, we're now in a very linear section with the next open area likely a distance ahead of us.

At least she's not seen us nor asked for a ride. That would be awkward, let me tell you. Mainly as I'd have to give her a very firm no. Feels every so slightly wrong, given how she found me passed out in a bush the other day. Really, nothing was stopping her from killing me if she wanted to... she just chose not to.

"Guys," Cinder says, suddenly. "I'd like to part ways here, if that's ok? This as far as I feel like tagging along. I can make it on my own from here."

"Are you sure?" I ask her. "The marshes are dangerous to go through alone. I know Rammy's also alone, but he's a lot stronger physically. Same for Wood, and Katniss."

"I'll manage," she says, nodding. "Thanks for the ride. I owe you one."

Urchin carefully steers us to the shore - the opposite side to Katniss, thankfully - and Cinder climbs out, carefully setting her feet onto solid ground. Well, perhaps not solid due to the vile mud but close enough, I would think. Once she has her bearings, she gives us a respectful nod.

"Be seeing you," she says as she starts to head off towards a thick patch of trees nearby. The perfect cover right now. "Good luck with blowing up the Careers' stuff. You may need it."

With that, she scampers off towards the trees and is soon out of sight. A shame really; I trust her more than Katniss and I think she'd offer a lot to our group. But, she's made her choice and already we're off again. Urchin seems fairly neutral as he rows us along but I do not miss Gadget's relief.

"Didn't you trust her?" I ask, quietly.

"I don't trust people easily most of the time," she says, looking away.

"You trust me, right?" Urchin asks, timidly.

"Yeah... I do," Gadget says.

I briefly smile at the blush on Urchin's face and how Gadget looks very awkward for a moment or two. But, I'm soon back to business. Just three of us now, all the more reason to be careful. A few more miles and we'll be there... just, please, let things continue to work as they are for a while longer.

Just as Urchin rows us under a large overgrowth - a leafy, mossy plant that hides us from view - I hear a yell.

There's nobody else nearby, or so I thought, so I turn towards where Katniss lurks on the distant riverbank and brace myself for the worst.

I'd expected it to be a crocodile attack, but that's not the case here. Honestly, I dare say it's quickly progressed to something a lot worse than that. Katniss is cornered at the water's edge - no crocodiles in sight, but that might not be the case for long - and while she has a sharp knife in hand, I doubt it will make much of a distance.

Not when Marvel and Cato have tracked her down at last and block off any chance of escape. If she runs left then Marvel will spear her. If she runs right then Cato's sword will make short work of her. Running between them just means both of the previous things, and even if she were to manage to stab one of them it might not be lethal. If it were, then the other boy kills her anyway and probably in a more brutal sort of fashion.

"Cover your eyes," I whisper to Urchin and Gadget. "Ears too. Don't look."

Gadget obeys right away, shuddering. She's well aware of what's about to happen to the Girl on Fire. Urchin, however, doesn't listen.

"We should help her," he says, urgently. "Come on, we can do it."

"How?" I ask him. It's a miracle I did not reflexively ask him 'why'.

Then again, I think that would lead to a conversation much like the talk I had with Wood before we parted ways. I feel like a hypocrite, with how I'd rather not help Katniss when she's the top scorer here and theoretically able to kill us with ease. But honestly, even if I was dedicated to saving her, what could we do? Exposing ourselves would lead to nothing but trouble.

"Um..." he seems to strain, thinking of an idea. Any idea. "Shoot them with the bow and arrows? Or, throw a landmine at them?"

"The landmine would kill Katniss too," Gadget mumbles, still covering her ears and closing her eyes.

Two Careers gone, and Katniss gone quick and painlessly. Now that she mentions it... no, _**no**_. I shan't think like that any further. That's sadism, right there.

Where does one draw the line between being pragmatic and a sadist, honestly?

"Well, the bow will still work!" he whispers, urgent. "Nettle, can't you shoot them? I mean, maybe not kill them but just so that Katniss could run away? Maybe in their legs."

"I don't think I'm a good enough shot," I say to him, this part being the truth. "Exposing ourselves might land us in plenty of hot water of our own. Our lives are at stake just as much as hers."

Any further discussion of ours is stopped when a different talk begins on the river bank. As though it were an unspoken order Urchin and I cease our own words and strain to listen. Gadget, meanwhile, remains silent and hunched over.

"Well, well, welly well," Marvel says, amused. "Took longer than we wanted, but it looks like we've finally found you."

"Whoa, you must have trained for _years_ to be able to point out the obvious like that," Katniss says, defiant to the end. "I had no idea you found me until you outright said it."

"Well, there's no need to be rude," Marvel says, putting on a hurt tone. "You wound me, Girl on Fire."

"Want me to wound you for real?" she asks, her knife almost glinting under the rain for a moment.

"Hmmm, sorry but I'd rather you didn't," he says, idly.

A silence ensues. I can almost hear my own heartbeats.

"We're wasting time," Cato says, scoffing. "Let's kill her. I don't exactly trust Glimmer as a guard, least of all when everywhere is flooded. Sooner we kill this girl, sooner we get back."

"Here I was thinking you wanted to draw it out a bit for Sponsors," Marvel replies, sounding curious.

"Eh, we have a hoard of stuff and most of the other guys cannot swim. The water will take care of them as it raises and if not they'd just be flushed out to the high ground eventually. The only one I am sure can swim is the twelve year old and he's gonna be so pathetic it's not even funny," Cato explains, pacing as he talks. He twirls his sword as he speaks, as if bored.

Beside me, Urchin shivers fearfully.

"But if we find that Nettle then all bets are off. I am tearing her arms right off," Cato continues, snarling. Nuts... "Glimmer says she was the one to kill Nettle... and you know what, I believe her. Either way Nettle has to die, so we may as well make it count."

"I'm sure the fans back home will love you for it," Marvel adds chuckling. "Gee, putting it this way makes you seem almost irrelevant Katniss."

"I'm so sad about that," she says, flatly. I can see her glance beside her for a moment. "So... we gonna do this?"

"Gladly," Cato says. I cannot quite see his expression from here, but just based on how eager he is to start killing... I'm thankful that I cannot.

In one motion Katniss throws her knife right at Cato. He yells, startled and while I see no blood spill, the alarm sent him falling right down onto his back. Marvel is quickly on the attack just as I assumed, seeming ever so pleased he's the one who will be able to do the deed, but Katniss doesn't even try to fight him.

She instead takes the ultimate gamble and leaps into the water, starting to swim her way towards the other side of the marsh. Cato rises up and curses. His sword won't help him here.

"Come on, let's get in after her!" he barks at Marvel. "She's getting away!"

"Why would we go into the dirty water?" Marvel asks, flatly. "I'm all for flashiness, but what's just dumb."

"Letting her escape is dumb!" Cato roars.

Sure enough Katniss is starting to make her way cross the wide expanse of water. We remain hidden, the three out there oblivious to our presence, waiting to see what might happen next. Katniss might escape without any sort of aid needed, and the girl on fire shall burn on.

"No, it's dumb to run into the water when I can just do _this_ ," Marvel says, shaking his head.

With that that Marvel takes aim with his spear. He only has to focus for the briefest of moments before he throws it with great force.

It skewers right into Katniss' back.

I have to grab Urchin and hold his face to my shoulder to stop him from screaming and giving our position away. Beside us Gadget sits, rocking back and forth, mumbling in a depressed sort of terror. She squeaks and mumbles, shivering. But I wonder, would the Career boys even hear us when Katniss' scream is the loudest thing heard for miles?

She screams horrifically for a few moments before going silent, just floating where she is. Her blood starts to turn the brown water a deep red.

"No cannon," Marvel notes. "Shall we finish it?"

"Seems like a waste. We'd get soaked for no reason," Cato says, shaking his head. "C'mon, there might be more tributes this way. Not checked that way yet."

"Works for me," Marvel says. "Hope I get another spear sponsored soon."

"Should've bought more than one," Cato says, shrugging.

"I guess," Marvel says as they begin to move out of hearing range. "Anyway, that tracker-jacker nest we passed? I have a marvellous plan for it if the sponsors were to send some safety gear. We'd take the nest and then we'd use it as-."

They become too distant for me to hear any longer. Well, besides the sound of cheers and a high-five. Other than that, nothing else. They're gone, thankfully.

It seems Katniss is nearly gone as well. I yelp in sudden alarm as Urchin throws me off. Thankfully I just land on the bottom of the boat, not in the marshes. I sit up, ready to ask what he thinks he's doing, but what's when I see that he's rowing us towards Katniss as fast as he can make us go. I had no idea a scrawny twelve year old could be ever so fast with rowing, but here we are.

"We're coming!" he says. "Hold on!"

It's hopeless, surely he knows that, right? But he's got his mind set on this, and seeing Katniss like this... I want to help too. At least make her final moments have more dignity than being skewered and drowning in filthy water. Urchin rows and I lean out as far as I dare, ready to grab her hand.

I manage to take hold of her hand. Grasping it tightly I give Urchin a nod, and he starts to row us towards the shore. Katniss doesn't respond, practically a world away by this point.

The cannon booms loudly as can be before we reach the water's edge. Nonetheless, Urchin keeps rowing until we get there, his expression forlorn. He gives me a sad look, glancing at Katniss. I nod in return. I think I know what he wants... I think.

I take the spear out from her in one clean motion, and we work together to lay her down on the muddy bank. Her eyes stare blankly, death having claimed her sight and everything else she once had. I hear Gadget sobbing behind me, but Urchin keeps his own tears back, if only just.

"...Safe voyage," he whispers to Katniss, shaking.

He never knew this girl, as far as I know, but yet he shows her respect in death and wanted to help her. I get the sense Urchin is too nice for the Hunger Games; both to deserve them and to win them. I'll keep such thoughts private.

He asks the sky for a flower. It's not long before a small parachute delivers a rose, which he lays down upon Katniss. He makes a sort of sailor salute, I think, and I emulate it. It would be respectful to the citizens of Twelve, the poor people having lost for the twenty fourth year in a row.

"Did you know her?" I ask Urchin. "At all?"

"Not really," he says, shaking his head. "I just know she volunteered for her sister, one young as me, and spared her from all this. That's something to respect."

Urchin climbs back into the boat, ready to go. I take a moment to quickly check Katniss belongings - nothing particularly special on her. Seems she was running very low on supplies of all kinds. - and soon I join Urchin back in the boat.

Only now, Katniss' Mockingjay pin has been added to my growing collection of tokens. One way or the other, her family is getting it back. I didn't help their daughter - not sure if I could have, but maybe that's just me making excuses for being pragmatic - but I won't let the token be forever lost. I'm sure it's got some sentimental value.

Like before, we're silent as we continue going to our destination. But, having just witnessed a death, we're somehow quieter than silence. It feels that way, at least. It's a sight that chills you right down to the bone.

The only comfort is that we now know Marvel and Cato are not at the Careers' campsite. With luck, they will not be back there for a while. We'll just have Glimmer to contend with, and with how she's taken an arm injury from my hatchet - and also the fact we have landmines to throw - I like our odds.

I gulp fretfully, though, over how Cato is now aware I was the one who killed Clove. I shan't let him do to me what he did to Peeta! Never!

* * *

 **(Time goes by...)**

* * *

Sadly, we had to leave the boat behind - both due to space an the fact three crocodiles were closing in on us. It was a worthy sacrifice. - but it served its purpose just fine in the end. We got across the worst of the marshlands, and now we've reached the higher ground. Of course, I'm not entirely certain that it will remain high for long, but it's all the more reason to keep on moving.

Indeed, moving has been the only course of action that we have undertaken in the past hour or so. The terrain was certainly grotesque beneath our feet, the squelching ever so grossly macabre, but despite all of that and the lingering chills of seeing a murder happen right before our eyes we have made it.

Right now, we're ducking down behind thick bushes and some tall trees to hide our presence. Subtlety is of the utmost importance as we look out at the Careers' campsite.

There it is, the bounty of supplies. The spoils of child killing war that could keep even the lowest scoring of tributes alive for the long haul. Even after six days into the Games there are still plenty of items left in the massive pile; just from a glance I can see blankets, packs of food and water, _sharp_ weapons and and no doubt more things besides those concealed in the unopened container and crates.

Credit where it is due, it's impressive the Careers were able to get all of this stuff this far from the Cornucopia in only a few days.

"That sure is a lot of stuff," Urchin says, quietly. "I sure want some of it. But... well..."

"Yeah," I mutter. "She's there."

It's just as Cato said, Glimmer has been left here as the guard of the Cornucopia's supplies. She patrols in a constant circle around it, a scimitar in hand, her stance rigid as she goes. Every now and then she puts her hand on the part of her right arm I struck with my axe yesterday. I have little doubt she's probably had some medical supplies given to her by now, but it would seem the pain is still there.

Speaking of which... goodness gracious, my axe wound is still throbbing. I'm able to ignore it, for the most part, but my flesh beneath the bandages feels horrible. A light touch has me having to bite my sleeve to not cry out and risk alerting Glimmer. Ok... fine... I can cope with that. Just need to get more medical supplies from over there before we blow them up and maybe I'll feel better.

But before all that, Glimmer remains a serious issue. I shan't underestimate her, she's still a powerful tribute even with a wounded arm. I mean, goodness gracious, she pin-cushioned Lace effortlessly and fired the arrows at such a speed as well. She may not have a bow now, but does that matter? I saw her training, you know, and her skills with bladed weapons are certainly better than mine. Easily better than Gadget's skills and even if Urchin could fight her equally with them she still has a size advantage over him.

Something must be done, and all I can do now is ponder what it might be. I mean, besides killing her. I'd already done it once, would it be so much worse to do it again now that the line is crossed? I'm not sure sure, nor do I wish I know; having killed somebody and felt the sickening emotions that follow I much prefer not to feel that way again henceforth. Thing is, I'll surely have to kill again come the 'finale' of the Games. It's unlikely these days that the final battle doesn't end up happening due to a tribute dying to a trap or something.

I'm hardly lady like to think of murder, but it might be the only way to keep my own life going in the long-term. I'd not willing to die for Glimmer's sake, not even slightly. I shot the crocodile with the arrow, so maybe I can shoot her with one as well.

"I could kill her," I whisper. "Or, just make her run off. An arrow in her body, she'd not stick around to see what happens next."

"Do you want to put yourself through that, though?" Urchin asks me, looking anxious.

"No, I don't," I say. "But it's that, or the Careers will keep their supplies and eventually they'd kill us all. It's doesn't... matter if we want to or not. It's just what makes the most sense."

"Violence just feels senseless," he replies, shuddering. "I remember, on day one... while I was hiding in the Cornucopia I saw all the bloodshed going right in front of me. It was..."

He gags, paling. It must have been a horrible sight to witness, for anybody. I can only theorise how anybody may find it fun to watch. Alas, while I would consider myself educated I do not understand the minds of those who are mad.

"Think you can shoot her?" he asks after a while.

"I'm not certain," I admit. "Maybe throwing the landmines would be easier?"

"Can we throw them that far?" Urchin asks, looking doubtful.

"I can't," Gadget mumbles, from her spot shivering behind a tree. "If we do, then we'd just destroy the supplies too early. We'd not get anything..."

"I'll try my best to... shoot her, then," I say, starting to notch an arrow.

"Or..." Urchin rises up. " _Or_ , I could get her attention and lead her away. I'm fast and she's kinda battered. I could keep her on the run and give you guys time. I'll come back once I hear the explosions."

"Urchin, that's dangerous," Gadget whispers. "She'll kill you."

"As a fallen tribute said, they cannot kill me if they cannot catch me," Urchin replies. "Do you think you two can gather supplies and blow up the rest quickly?"

"I am positive of it," I assure him. "Are you quite certain you are willing to take this risk?"

"No," he admits. "But if you miss with the arrow then she could get into a better position or... or call for help, and... honestly, I don't want to see another person die right in front of me."

I don't get to say anything else, be it calling him foolhardy or ever so brave, before he moves out from the cover. He yelps, acting as though he only just saw Glimmer. The Career girl quickly turns to him, smirking.

"Why hello there, little boy. Did you get lost?" she asks, teasingly. She swishes her scimitar a bit, making Urchin shiver. "Seems we both scored an eight, but I'd say it's time to show I am stronger than you. _**Come on**_!"

"I'm outta here!" Urchin yells, turning tale and sprinting off as fats as he can go... whoa, that's pretty fast. Much more than I had expected.

Then again, he did reach the Cornucopia quick enough to hide in it before anybody noticed. It should be no surprise that he's speedy, I suppose.

Glimmer chases after him, laughing and calling for him to give up. I don't dare breath until she's gone, leaving the supplies exposed.

"So, what's the plan?" Gadget asks me.

"...You know, this tree is pretty bumpy and full of branches. I could climb it and cover you?" I suggest. "You have the landmines and bags, so you could run in and grab stuff, set them down and then blow them up. I have the bow and arrow in case anything happens."

"You sure about this?" she asks me, uncertain. "You didn't want to do it to Glimmer."

"It'll only take a minute or two," I assure her. "And, honestly, I think I might do a better job with the bow and arrow if I was not as easy for a target to see or reach. With Glimmer, she was able to fight us and it feels almost unsporting to snipe her off-guard when she's just pacing. But if she was trying to harm my ally... it gets easier to justify to myself. Time's passing, we should get started."

"Ok," Gadget mumbles. I'm not sure if she even thinks my explanation makes any sense - does it? I'm so stressed and on edge that it's hard to be sure myself - but it seems she's resigned to just agree. It's concerning."

I climb my way up the tree with a surprising lack of difficulty. As I said though, it's got a lot of branches so it's no hard for me to get high up in, even with my short height and lack of athleticism. Seated on a high branch, I notch an arrow in the bow.

"Wait, stop!" I hiss below to Gadget.

Gadget freezes, having been a second from running out to the piles of supplies. A good thing too, because Rammy carefully walks out from the opposite edge of the clearing. He looks around, his large axe gripped ever so tightly in his palms, before deeming the area safe and quickly running to the supplies.

"Perfect," I hear him say. I guess with nobody around he feels no need to be quiet. "Ok, quickly now. No time to waste."

 _ **Snipe him**_ , I hear a voice in my head say. I'll dub this my pragmatic side; the devil on my shoulder, if you will.

 _ **Let him live. He's just as scared and hurt as you if not moreso**_ , says a different voice. I guess thus one is my humane side, the angel on my other shoulder.

Amazing how my thoughts contradict teach other so very much, but it's not like I can do much here. Rammy stand sat the other side of the supply pile where I cannot see him. He works fast though, that much I can here. He grabs a bunch of stuff over the course of half a minute and then he sprints back off into the forest. I can see that he's grabbed a second, rather bulky, backpack now. No doubt it's filled with all kinds of pilfered loot.

Both the rope he is already fashioning into a noose and the blowtorch he's stuffed into his pocket are going to be big problems if he has them on hand next time he sees me. Assuming we live long enough to meet again, that is.

Nonetheless, Rammy is swiftly gone and out of both sight and hearing range. It's just Gadget and I left in the clearing. She looks up at me, and I look down at her.

I give her a nod, and she's off.

Ok Nettle, focus. I breath deeply in and out, notching the arrow, ready to the fire at the moment I see any sighs of trouble. I just hope five arrows will be enough. It's hardly anything, really. All the same, it's what I have so I'll just have to make it work.

Gadget quickly makes it to the supplies and starts to grab various items, stuffing them into her backpack. She works fast, driven by fear. It's not long before she's loaded up the backpack and runs back placing it down amongst the overgrowth, before returning to fill up a second one that she grabs from the base of the supply pile.

I freeze, hearing a horrible caw type of sound. Gadget does the same, frantically looking around. She looks up and screams, and I look up to see what the issue is.

It's a mutt, and certainly one of the nastier ones I've seen in the past few years. A grisly vulture, starting to descend towards Gadget. It's slow, mocking her almost, as it extends its razor sharp talons.

I let the arrow fly, skewering the beastly bird. It was slow moving, so it wasn't much of a threat. Gadget cowers, not moving as she trembles and sobs, even as the bird falls dead on the ground.

"Gadget! Come on!" I yell. "Time's running out!"

Despite her clear terror Gadget manages to rise to her feet; grabbing more supplies. Dumping down another backpack full of them - mine! - she runs back to the supply pile to grab a few more and, most importantly, set down the land mines. Of course, two caws that sound out break her focus and leave her cowering once again.

I aim up at the vultures that descend ever so menacingly, firing off an arrow. One of them is skewered, falling down lifelessly, but the other quickly speeds up and swoops down. I scream out just as Gadget screams, the beast raking its claws onto her back. I fire off an arrow, the shot going wide and pinning into a distant tree. Gadget screams louder, trying to smack the vulture away with the backpack, but it doesn't hold it off for long.

I quickly notch an arrow and fire, hoping it hits the mark.

It's not a killer shit, but the arrow pierces the mutt's wing and send sit sprawling to the ground in a panic. Now in a panic herself and with some bloodstains on the back of her jacket, she stomps on it's head with a shriek, silencing the vulture swiftly.

It's a struggle to hold back my vomit at the sight of blood, both human and mutt. The very thought makes me go pale, and seeing it before me is so much worse. Gadget is hurt, but despite her sobs she gets up and sets down the landmines as carefully as she can, using what looks like a jar of tree sap to stick them into place.

She doesn't get more than a few steps away from the pale before every so suddenly shouts and footsteps get near. Urchin runs into the clearing, wheezing and gasping. He looks rather beaten, though amazingly he doesn't look bloodied. Glimmer is close behind him, similarly tired out and sporting some bruises, though not as many as Urchin.

"Get back here!" she chokes out, before she spots Gadget. "Two for one? Why, how generous of you both to give your lives to me!"

"Gadget, run!" Urchin wheezes.

It's not to be, as Glimmer easily sweep kicks both the young tributes to the ground. She looms over them, her scimitar sharp and ready for killing. I fumble with the bow, trying to ire off a shot quickly, all reservations about murder suddenly distant.

I drop the bow.

Nuts!

"Any last words," Glimmer asks, leering at the trapped youths. "Come on, say anything! Cry for mommy and daddy!"

Gadget looks like she's going to be sick, while Urchin is silently shivering. Both are in panic, out of options and out of time to live.

"I have some," Gadget says, her voice cracking in fear. "I have a gift for you."

"What?" Glimmer says, confused.

That moment was all it took. Gadget smacks two objects onto Glimmer and kicks her in the knee. Glimmer falls down into the mud and Gadget staggers up and pulls Urchin up to his feet.

"Run, she's gonna explode!" she screams, pale faced.

Gadget and Urchin dash to the bushes below me as Glimmer gets up. Only now do I see what Gadget just did. My eyes widen in realisation just as Glimmer's own eyes widen in pure terror.

Gadget stuck two of the landmines to her with the tree sap. They're beeping, and the beeping is starting to rapidly speed up.

Glimmer screams, absolutely terrified beyond any rational thought. She writhes and wails, trying to yank the landmines off. As she screams and sobs, she stumbles over and onto the pile of supplies. She missed the landmines set there, but I'd bet it's only granted her a few extra second of life.

"No, no!" she shrieks. "Get them off, no! Shimmer, don't look! Somebody help me, somebody h-."

Her words are cut off by an explosion that claims both her life and all of the supplies that were piled up. The wreckage of the supplies is blasted around, flaming debris clattering all over the place. Glimmer's splattered, blood remains coat the ground and the trees of the clearing, nothing left intact of what used to be the prettiest girl of the Games, so said the sponsors I presume.

This time it's too much for me and I puke hard. The blood, the gore, those final terrified screams... I'm never going to forget that. As I descend the tree I shake and moan, horrified into a near silence from her nasty death.

The boom of the cannon feels like an afterthought compared to that travesty that just happened.

As I touch the ground, I see that I'm hardly the only one effected. Urchin is breathing deeply, shaking from the death of his would-be killer. Meanwhile Gadget is whimpering, softly sobbing. She mumbles rapid, inaudible words. I don't make any of it out, but it's obvious she's horrified over the fact she just killed somebody, even if it could be argued as self-defence for both herself and Urchin.

I don't say anything, not even a simple acknowledgement that we have accomplished the mission we set out to do. There's really nothing to say right now.

Urchin rises, shakily moving his way to the wreckage to see if there is anything left that we might be able to salvage, or at least keep away from the Careers when they come back. Such thought feel irrelevant though, having just witnessed that.

Gadget cries, sobbing like a child as she knees on the ground before me. This time, I do make out one little thing she says.

She calls herself a monster.

I sink to my knees beside her, trying to comfort her. A hug, whispered and gentle assurances, a slow rub to her back... the kind of stuff Ranger would do for me if I was upset. I'm not sure if this helping at all, but if I had to fathom a guess then I'd say that it isn't at all. There's nothing to be done, both Gadget's trauma and Glimmer being blown to bits.

Nothing but try to hold together in one piece and find some way to keep on going.

"It was her or you," I tell her after some time passes. "You saved yourself, and Urchin. You... didn't do the 'right' thing, but it was the smartest choice you had available to you."

"It hurts to think about... I killed her!" she wails, sobbing louder.

I frown, thinking fast. I really don't know how to comfort somebody during a meltdown, least of all somebody young and showing signs of an abused life in her District. I really do not think there is any right answer here nor any phrasing that may calm her down, even slightly.

Resigning myself to the fact Gadget needs time to cry this one out, I settle and gently hold her towards me. I don't judge, as I too know the terrible feeling that comes with killing somebody. I'm not over what I did to Clove, and it must be worse for Gadget; I didn't have to hear Clove screaming with full knowledge she was about to die and scream for who I presume to be a family member to not look.

It's rough. That's all I can say.

Urchin comes back soon, empty handed.

"Nothing left," he says quietly, gesturing to the rubble. "Just burnt ashes and stuff. We should get out of here before the other two Careers come back."

I nod, helping Gadget up to her feet. With nothing left for us in this burnt, gory clearing we're quick to turn and make our leave.

"Anything I can do, Gadget?" Urchin asks, walking beside her.

"I don't know..." she whispers, lost.

"Well, if you do think of something, let me know," he says, clearly concerned. "You saved us... I owe you."

Gadget mumbles something, again inaudible, as we leave the broken Career campsite. I cannot help but wonder just how furious the Careers are going to be and how many miles their furious screams are going to be able to be heard for. I guess I'll find out soon enough, as they most likely heard the explosion. If not, then surely the cannon. They'll probably want to make sure their companion is ok... obvious, this is not the case.

I can only flinch, starting to feel sick over the thought of how Marvel might react to his ex being blown to pieces.

I stop wondering when an enraged roar fills my ears, making my head feel like it's rattling. Ack! Owww! That's one nasty, anguished roar.

Looking back, I wish I hadn't. That is certainly one most terrifying gaze I shan't be getting out of my head for years to come, assuming I win.

Marvel looks at me, rage in his eyes. Gone is the cocky, if dangerous, fool who has been a thorn in my side ever since the training centre. No trace of his usual mischief or juvenile smugness remains in those eyes. Nothing but cold contempt and fiery fury. A little ways behind him Cato is looking just as angry, if not moreso. He's pulling at his hair and pounding the ground as his face turns so red that you'd think he had a truly terrible sunburn.

"You fucking bastards! Our supplies! Grrraargghhh!" Cato screams, practically steaming. Quite like a ham, in fact. I never knew a steamed ham could be so terrifying... "ARRRGGGGGHHH!"

Everything thereafter is unintelligible, but for once it's not Cato who holds my complete attention. It's Marvel. Not only is he angry as described, but he's clearly had some sponsors watching over him today. He's wearing some form of a thick body armour; a sort of safety gear, even. He lacks a helmet or face-guard, instead having a strange kind of hood pulled up with a thin mesh built in to cover his face.

I pale, my heart bumping erratically fast as my blood truly runs cold.

He's holding a buzzing, angry nest of tracker-jackers in his arms. Cato's a safe enough distance behind to avoid their wrath, but the way he surveys the clearing, the splattered remains of Glimmer and then us... it's so clear what he intends to do.

Nuts!

"Run! Run for your lives!" I scream, turning and running away instantly, grabbing up a backpack of supplies as I do.

I sprint one way, and I see that Urchin and Gadget have begun to dash off in a different direction. I can only hope they will be spared the pain, as will I, and that we can regroup as soon as possible.

"You tree bitch!" Marvel roars. "First our starting gear, then Clove, causing a fight at our camp, all the supplies had left, _Glimmer_... ok, that's it, the limit has officially been reached! Get a cannon ready Gamemakers; here comes my most marvellous of attacks!"

I push myself to run as fast as I can, working my small legs to the limit. I hear the sound of something sailing through the air and a nasty crunching sound as it hits the ground. The buzzing sounds formidable.

Nuts...

I shake my head, narrowing my eyes. This is the worst time to panic; I need to keep my mind calm and my pace brisk as can be. Only this will keep me from being tracked, jacked and stung to death.

I cannot hear any screaming, so I can only assume that Urchin and Gadget are avoiding the swarm for now. I keep myself going, jumping over logs and ducking under branches. When I come to a muddy slope I jump forth and dick in my heels with my arms extended either side of me. I slide speedily down and keep on going. I can only pray that the increased speed from the slide has put me safely ahead of the horrible wasps.

If only I had the blowtorch I once had on me before I lost my supplies; perhaps fire could defeat them. It's too dangerous to stop and check if I have one now, though. I just can't risk my life in the hope Gadget grabbed one and stuffed it into the backpack I claimed.

The swarm sounds less aggressive now, perhaps not in the mood to pursue me. The rain may be the one thing keeping me alive right; it's a known fact bugs don't often fly when it's raining and certainly this must apply to tracker jackers as well. Glancing back I grimly smile, seeing that only a few stragglers are chasing me and even then some of them are now leaving the area to find shelter.

I race forwards, feeling hope rising in me. I'm doing it, I'm evading the horrid monsters! Ha, so much for Marvel's plan! Sure, he might have wanted me killed and, yes, perhaps he is the first tribute to weaponise a tracker jacker hive in this kind of way and thus is surely a sponsor favourite now, but he's gonna have to keep waiting if he wants me dead.

I have a will to survive that he cannot break. Perhaps I am small, but even the tiniest among us can often-AAARRRGGGHHHH!

I can't hold back the scream as pain erupts on the back of my neck. One of the tracker jackers stung me... nuts, nuts, nuts! One sting can be fatal... and yet, I am still running, if perhaps a bit haphazardly.

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to keep on going. It's not over yet. It's not. I can still... keep on... running. I have to... evade Marvel and-AAAAARRRRGGGHHH!

A second sting, one to my cheek, has me shriek loud enough for birds to scatter from the trees. The stings inflame my body, the agony the only feeling I have left. Aaaahhhh... aahhhh... ARRRRGGGHH!

As if that were not bad enough, my shoulder feels painful once more. It's so sore and... and...

Everything's getting strange...

As I stumble my way along, everything is echoing. The rain seems like it's slowing down around me and the colours begin to invert. The trees start melting away into mud and I think for a moment I can hear laughter. I don't know who is laughing, but they laugh loud.

On and on and on and on and on and on and on and on.

I feel like I'm drunk, swaying around as I try to keep moving. But as I tumble around a steep slope is getting near. Not just that, but... uhhhhh... whoa, that's a lot of tigers running past, or are they not there?

Everything begins to look purple and the rain starts falling in reverse towards the sky. The laughter is getting louder.

I feel so dizzy, waving away the tap dancing bear that offers me a drink. I start to slowly spin on the spot, backing up step by step. I see President Snow standing nearby, standing calm and dignified.

He smirks, and his face erupts into a screaming shadow that explodes into a shower of cockroaches.

"Bugs!" I scream, though I think it comes out as a blur.

Before I can try to fumble and grab whatever is pierced into my neck and cheek - stingers, or just some of the sausages raining from the sky now? - I slip on the mud and everything starts to echo as a bell clangs distantly. It continues to ring slow and haunted as I crash to the base of the slope, finally come to a stop in a thick bush.

I lay crumbled and dazed. As I say here on my side I feel everything going dark.

Looking up I can see Fiona and Lawrence looking down at me with big grins, but I can't say a word before it all goes dark...

* * *

 **END OF DAY 6...**

* * *

 **REMAINING TRIBUTES**

Marvel (District 1 Male)

Cato (District 2 Male)

Gadget (District 3 Female)

Urchin (District 4 Male)

Cinder (District 5 Female)

Wood (District 7 Male)

Nettle (District 7 Female)

Rammy (District 10 Male)

* * *

 **THE FALLEN**

9th- **Glimmer (District 1 Female)** \- Blown up by landmines, by Gadget.

10th- **Katniss (District 12 Female)** \- Skewered with a spear through the back, by Marvel.

11th- **Lacey (District 8 Female)** \- Shot repeatedly with arrows, by Glimmer.

12th- **Peeta (District 12 Male)** \- Beaten relentlessly, by Cato.

13th- **Rue (District 11 Female)** – Spear thrown into chest, by Wood.

14th- **Clove (District 2 Female)** \- Drowned, by Nettle.

15th- **Weldar (District 3 Female)** \- Asphyxiated with a rope, by Rammy.

16th- **Jason (District 6 Male)** – Slashed several times in the stomach with a scythe, by Cato.

17th- **Sparky (District 5 Male)** – Speared in the gut with a spear and then stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Wood.

18th- **Sickle (District 9 Female)** – Stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Glimmer.

19th- **Thresh (District 11 Male)** – Disembowelled with a machete, by Cato.

20th- **Marina (District 4 Female)** \- Struck in the neck with an axe by Weldar.

21st- **Miller (District 9 Female)** – Knife thrown into back, by Clove.

22nd- **Tamora (District 6 Female)** – Stabbed repeatedly in the gut, by Glimmer.

23rd- **Sable (District 10 Female)** – Stuck in the skull with an axe, by Cato.

24th- **Callico (District 8 Male)** – Stabbed with a kukri, by Marvel.

* * *

 **TRIBUTE NOTES**

 **Katniss:** I find it really ironic, honestly, that in these stories Katniss never seems to do much. I mean, she is only the canonical main protagonist and all. Perhaps in some ways it could be called fitting that in a series dedicated to the minor tributes who never got names that Katniss takes a step away from the main stage? Well, regardless, this is where Katniss has left us for another timeline. I found it enjoyable to write for her properly again; after all, she never really had a role in Wounded Warsong and Howling Hate... well, yeah. It's been ages since her last role where we saw her more protective and caring side. Here, though, she had nobody to protect and had her view on Peeta unintentionally corrupted by Nettle, leading to her being much more of a frosty loner with attitude. Due to never getting the bow this time and also the increasingly flooded, hazardous terrain this was a timeline where the odds were against her a lot. But, being Katniss, she fought until the end. It was fun to show off a new - well, new in my fics anyway - side to her, but as I said this is where she leaves us once again.

 **Glimmer:** Per the norm, she's a character I enjoy writing for. I feel like of the Careers she just has a lot of untapped potential in her; hard to explain, but reading the book and watching the movie she was one of those characters who just jumped out at me. I guess it feels redundant to say it when the point here is to expand on the minor characters, lmao, but the point is how she's a character I enjoy using whenever I can. I feel like she served a good role as a secondary antagonist in this tale, posing a key threat when she showed up and with plenty of decent lines, such as her talk with Clove and the stand-off with her and the Sevens. But, as has been the case three times now in what is becoming a morbid and unintended trend, she has died at the Careers' campsite in fairly horrible fashion. I feel the impending knowledge that she is doomed and about to blow up added a lot of emotion here, maybe making her somebody deserving of sympathy? Up to you guys I guess, but certainly some nasty final moments. I think her calling out to her younger sister - Shimmer - to look away added to the grim moment. In any case, here she dies... and now, just eight remain.

A final note, tracker jacker hallucinations are both terrifying to think about and yet also great fun to write!


	7. Day 7: Real and Not Real

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

 **Note:** Here we are, back for more at the one week mark in the Arena. Now, it got pointed out to me privately that the way the last chapter ended could be seen as fairly convoluted, and that's fair. Upon reflection, I cannot say I disagree. I know hindsight is 20/20, but I'd love to have that kind of clear view before I make the mistakes to begin with, lol. But, I've done some deep thinking and I think I can get things more or less neatly back on track. That's all I have to say really, so let's get started!

* * *

Pain. Nothing but pain. As soon as I begin to weakly stir, all that seems to exist is the pain that surges it's way through my body. I have no idea what it might be, but I'm afraid of what I'll see if I open my eyes. Everything feels so distant, like I'm floating while lying on wet ground. It hurts, so much I want to scream until my lungs are shrivelled and my throat is scorched.

...

Pain... wet... I can feel things.

It's a struggle, but slowly I open my eyes. I have no idea what I might see; maybe one or more of my limbs destroyed, or perhaps a stormy sky above me. I can hear the rain after all, and I am sure my legs are submerged. Am I partly in a river? I can hardly remember a thing, but I didn't fall in the water... or, did I?

I struggle to remember what happened as I continue to try and see around me past the immense blurring. Glimmer died, I remember that for a fact. Then, Marvel and Cato came back... the former of those two, he threw a tracker-jacker nest like a grenade.

I got stung. Twice, I recall it to be? Or maybe I'm wrong... but a few more than that and I'd be dead. Two or three times, I guess it was? Had to have been. So then, I must have stumbled around and... the rest is gone. I passed out - no idea how long - but why didn't I get killed while I was out of it?

Marvel wouldn't hesitate, Cato wouldn't... so, what happened?

I sit up, weary and feeling like my whole body is waterlogged. I guess it makes sense, as I can now feel that I'm sitting in some water. Kind of shallow, but certainly cold. The air is damp, a distinct musk hanging around in the air. To call it foul would certainly be undercutting things a fair bit.

I can't contain my shrill scream once my vision comes into focus and I get a proper look down at myself. I shake like a leaf as I look at the blood stains on my right leg. That has my breathing light and fast, but I soon find myself shaking all over when I see that a stick has pierced its way through my left arm. I pale at the sight of the blood. A tug at it has me hiss... it's embedded, though it seems not lethally so.

How could this have happened?!

I try not to cry, instead fighting back all the tears as I glance around the area I'm now in. For a few wild moments I start to wonder if I'm even in the Arena anymore. Is this... hell? No, that's crazy talk. Crazy. But, what else is there to explain what has happened here?

I cannot see the forest, or swamp if that's the more accurate term? The area I was at wasn't the most flooded of areas... I think? Unless of course the venom didn't make me notice it.

I shake my head a little. The stings! The venom might still be flowing through me as I think. Maybe this entire place here is nothing more than one big hallucination?

I reach out with my right hand, tracing it along the cave wall. It feels pretty solid to me... but, does that prove this is real? It could easily just be part of the hallucination; tracker jackers are known for their almost lethal venom and the power of the hallucinations they induce.

Real or not, I'm gonna find out what has happened here. How can I have gone from a wet forest to... this? It wouldn't be the first time that an Arena alters it's terrain day to day... but they'd never wait so long to do it. No, cannot be that.

I squeal in pain as I rise up. I grit my teeth as I try to steady myself, but it's a tough effort. You'd think after those ballet lessons father got me into that I would be a touch better at staying balanced, but it appears not. Ok Nettle, calm, calm... you can do this.

It's dark down here, but cracks in the rock above are letting what seems to be sunlight through. Better than nothing, certainly. I never did like the dark, and the Arena is just making me appreciate it all the less. In the dim light that I have, I can see the remains of what may have been a bush below me. I guess that, and the sharp rocks, explain where the stick in my arm and my leg wound came from... and the soreness all over too.

I look both ways down the cave and both ways lead on, rounding a corner. Water runs along the cave floor, shallow but with a notable current. Following the current might lead to a way out, though I cannot help but glance at where the current is coming from. It seems brighter that way.

I start heading back against the current and quickly I realise the water is a lot deeper than it seems. I don't dare take more than a few steps; if I go under, I'm not sure I'd be able to get back out again. But, standing here I can crouch and crane my neck to gaze up towards part of the cave roof up ahead.

Sunlight, perhaps from a sunrise judging from the colour of it. I must have been unconscious for hours... or, days! How many people are left alive?! I have no idea...

Not only do I know nothing, but I can't find my gear anywhere. Nuts... I had it, I had supplies and now they're all _gone_. The only things I have left are the tribute tokens I've been collecting.

I feel like I'm going to die in this place, more than ever. Maybe I should just sit down quietly and just... accept it. Maybe say goodbye; a camera would surely hear me, wouldn't it?

"Hello?" I say, softly. Light as my voice is, it echoes for a moment. "Is anybody there... anyone...?"

I slap myself with my good arm. The nerve of myself, even considering sitting down to await death!That would make the past several days of hardship and survival altogether pointless. No, I'll get out of here! ...Somehow. I'm not quite sure how I might do that, actually. I don't think that I can really climb right now; the twig in my arm surely makes it an infeasible option.

Not to mention, I'm not that good at climbing in the first place. No, I'll have to find another way up there, back up to...

Wait.

Wait just a moment.

As I sit on a large rock at the side of the cave, shuddering in pain, I think over the facts. My supplies are gone and I'm battered raw... but, I am alive which can only mean Marvel did not find me. There was no mistaking the sunlight I saw up there, so...

...

I'm under the Arena!

The ground must have broken somehow and took me down here with it. I guess the water broke some of my fall. No doubt the current carried me to where it was shallow - not like a small person like me is really gonna take much to be moved around - and that's where I've been for hours. Though, I have no idea as to how long that might be.

Not only that, but... how did the ground break? Can I even get out of here at all? Wait... if I am under the Arena does that mean I am out of bounds? Oh nuts, that's not good... nobody likes it when that happens, least of all the Capitol.

I remember a Victor that father spoke of from District 1 - I believe it may have been Platinum of the Forty Second Hunger Games - who got stuck beneath the Arena. She ended up winning by default as the last one ended up falling down a cliff and breaking their neck. The Capitol was angry over this fluke, as was District One themselves. I suppose they only accept a certain pedigree of tribute to be a Victor.

But, if they got angry at somebody from a loyal District for being out of bounds then what might they do to me?

I sit quietly for several long minutes, wringing my hands anxious. I need a plan, fast. The only option that is presenting itself to me is heading down the tunnel and following the flow of the water. But, I can only worry over what might be down there. I may be out of bounds, but don't Mutts come out from under the Arena? They might be lurking in the dark.

I resolve to move on, but first... the branch. Ok, ok, I can do this. I take hold of the branch and grip it tightly. Alright, on three.

One...

Two...

...Three!

...

 _ **AAARRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH**_!

The caves echo from my scream. I wail, shivering as I sit hunched over clutching my throbbing arm. My cheek and the back of my neck already felt bad enough from the stings and that's before getting into my leg. But this, this must be hell. Aaaaahhhhhh...

As I sit shivering and gasping, I freeze when I hear something. I fear it might be a growl or a roar, but no, it's not that. Not footsteps either.

It's the sound of something... whirring? Huh? Now, whatever could that be?

I'm not wondering for long, as moment later the thing in question comes to a stop before me. It looks like a sort of metal ball floating in the air, supporting by a softly whirring propeller. Obviously a Capitol device, but one that I'm unaware to the purpose of. I just look at it for a few moments, uncertain and still wheezing in pain, my gasping heavy and strained.

Just as I'm about to reach out and touch it, I recoil in surprise as the device starts to speak.

 **"Attention Tribute. You are currently out of bounds of the Arena. It is considered an extreme crime to venture to an permitted location when you are strictly meant to remain within the Arena**."

I pale, wondering if a gun might pop out of this device and shoot me. Just as I'm formulating a plan to either smash it or argue my case for my continued existence, it continues.

" **However, it is also clear you did not end up here by deliberate intent. There has been a... technical issue, and the weight of the flood has weakened the terrain across the Arena, causing some ground to collapse in areas both flooded and not. You and two others fell into these caves. We have decided to be** _ **generous**_ **hosts and give you a time limit to be out of the caves and back to the surface. If by the end of this time limit you've not left the out of bounds area then the caves will be made to collapse upon you. An exit has been created specifically for you and the others. Good luck tribute, and may the odds be ever in your favour**."

My mind races fast with all kinds of thoughts. How far away the exit might be, who might be stuck here too, the reasons for a cave system being down here - could there have been mines of some sort here before the cataclysms that led to Panem? - and how might the 'technical issues' effect the Games, but my thoughts are cut off as the drone says one more thing.

" **You have one hour.** "

The drone leaves, quick as it arrived. I'm silent for a moment, thinking over all that has happened and still taking in deep breathes.

One hour.

One hour!

I get up as fast as I can manage to, and start to hobble along down the dark tunnel. It's the only way I can possibly go, and I shan't dilly dally. Not when I have a time limit and no way to keep track of it or nor any idea how far away my destination is. Or, indeed, _where_ it is.

I lay a hand to my face as I move along, the hope within me starting to fade. I pause suddenly feeling something is stuck in my face. I wince as I pull it out, glancing at what it is.

A tracker jacker stinger.

I freeze. I've heard of tracker jackers plenty of times and seen them in past hunger games too; leaving the stingers in always makes the hallucinations worse. Nuts! They must have been in there for hours!

I quickly yank out the other stinger as well, feeling the sting on the back of my neck throb and practically leak from the sudden removal. I shudder, forcing back the pain as I limp onwards down the cave, sticking to the area where daylight seeps through the cracks.

Come on Nettle, you got this. Just keep moving, keep your ears alert and don't overthink. There's an exit somewhere, just gotta find it. I can only wish I knew anything about caves; nothing I can recall from training will help me here.

My survival rests upon my brains and intuition.

* * *

 **(Not long later...)**

* * *

This would be so much easier if I had a flashlight or even a torch. Even just having the supplies to make a torch would be sufficient for me - how hard could it be, really? - but it appears I am not quite so lucky. I'm forced to settle for the miniscule daylight that gets through the cracks from above, barely enough to light the way or warn me ahead of time if a fairly deep section of water is coming up.

I shouldn't complain. I'm lucky to remain alive right now, falling when I did. I wonder, who else fell down as I have? Did it save them too, or make everything worse?

Irrelevant, as time continues to tick down. The pathway has, thankfully, not been particular labyrinthine. Just a winding cave without any branching paths, much to my relief. Though, I have no idea when it might end. It could be around the very next corner, or maybe miles away.

Shivering at the thought of a cave in, I press on.

I huddle myself as I stumble through the near-darkness. Much is from fear, but I cannot ignore the cold down here. My teeth are near to the point of chattering.

This is bad enough, but alas it seems the tracker jacker venom is not out of my system. I continue to hallucinate and even knowing it's not real doesn't make it any less creepy. The occasional moments of the cave turning purple are clearly not real, but every growl from the darkness has me shaking worse, not knowing if it may be a real mutt lurking and ready to attack.

Rounding another corner, my footsteps in the water making a light splash that echoes down the tunnel, I freeze.

This has to be a hallucination. There is no way this can possibly be real.

There just can't be... can there?

Of course not... and yet, it's making me rooted to the spot, too spooked to move.

The tunnel has become straight, but it's by no means a simple walk forwards. Sixteen people are filling up the path ahead. Some stand, some sit, a few pace and one sits sobbing but there's one thing that they all have in common.

They're dead.

Or, at least they should be. They must be!

After all, each of them had a cannon fire to confirm their deaths. But, despite not speaking to most of them it's hard to forget what the dead tributes looked like in life. They're all there, showing no signs of injury or bloodstains. They're as they were in life, if perhaps a little... transparent.

I take a deep breath in and out. Fear or not, I'm on a tight time limit and can't stop for anyone or anything. I start to walk down the tunnel of the dead, trying not to look at the ghosts of the deceased too much.

Whether they're real or not, they're all looking at me...

Most remain silent as I walk past them. Weldar glares, his arms crossed as he voicelessly grumbles. The girl from Four stands silently, her gaze lacking any of the humour or power it was held. The boy from Five sits with his knees drawn up, hiding his face. The girl from Six just gives me a look full of sourness. The boy from Eight stands slouched, hunched over with a sad expression. Lace just lays down, staring blankly at the ceiling. The boy from Nine, Miller I think he was called, looks at me almost enviously. The girl from Nine leers at me, huffing. The girl from Ten - Sable, right? - stands very still, her hands over her stomach and tears in her eyes.

It gets worse though as I walk past them. Glimmer snarls at me, her eyes practically ablaze. Actual fires start to burn in them, making me squeal and quicken my pace. That's when I see Rue, very still and staring very intently. I look anywhere but at her eyes as I stumble by, which leads me to seeing Thresh giving me a firm, cold look.

"You got me killed," he says.

I shiver, mumbling what may be an apology as I run past him. That's when I see Peeta giving me a gaze that could be deemed as disappointed.

"You set Cato off and made him kill me," he says, tutting. "Not good."

Katniss gazes at me, giving me one frosty glare.

"Why didn't you even try to kill those Career boys?" she asks me. "My sister will never see me again."

"You're not real!" I yell, fright surging through me. "None of you are real! You're supposed to be dead!"

I don't spare them another glance, forcing myself to keep running as fast as I can. I cry out as I try, falling down. I gasp out as I feel my knee scrape on the rough ground under the water. It didn't get through to the fabric, but my knee is already sore. It won't take much to make it flare up.

But, my hands land upon something. Feeling carefully I take hold of the object and lift it up.

It's hard to see, but there's no mistaking my axe. I guess the water carried it this far... it'll do. I'd rather have my medical supplies, but at least I can sort of fight now. Not amazingly though, not when it's hard to know what's real and not real.

I take a deep breath, keeping my feet moving as I rise up. Can't be far now. That's what I tell myself, for any good that it may do.

But I can't stop the dread in me when I come to Clove. She sits on the ground, her knees drawn up and... wait, she's crying. Clove, the knife toting crazy girl from Two, is crying.

I try to sneak my way past her, but she looks up at me with tear filled eyes.

"Why did you drown me?" she whispers, shivering. "It's so wet, so cold down here... I want Cato. I need Cato, now! I want to go home, please..."

I feel disturbed to see her in such a state, one I'd have have assumed to be possible or at least a sight I'd ever see. I force myself to remember it's just a hallucination and keep on the move.

But at the end of the tunnel there's one more ghost waiting for me.

Jason slowly looks up, turning his head towards me. For a moment, we just stare.

"We could've been great," he says, softly. "We... we could've..."

He shudders, stammering and twitching violently.

"I almost did it, almost got the kill," he mumbles, rapidly. "But then I saw him, the shadow man. He never leaves, he just won't get out of my head! Wherever I go, he is standing there, staring at me with blood dripping around him. Get out, get out!"

Jason smashes his head against the cave wall, sobbing. His head begins to break and become bloody, but he barely reacts to it. He's not real! He can't be!

But, this was just how he acted a lot back before we got here. I can't imagine the terror of schizophrenia, and I'm glad I won't ever have to.

"You have to get out of here, now! Go, go, go! Get out, out before the whole place falls apart," he says, sinking to his knees, sobbing into them as he draws them up. "Before you end up like the rest of us... like me."

Jason glances back the way I came from and wails in horror. I glance back and shriek, wishing I'd not looked.

The other fifteen dead tributes stare at us, blood pouring out of them from every orifice on their heads. The feelings of terror I'm feeling... it's indescribable. Only my screams do it justice.

As the ghosts begin to slowly move towards me, soaking the cave red, Jason grabs my leg.

"Run!" he yells, shaking madly. "Run, and don't come back!"

He twitches wildly and suddenly his neck breaks, leaving him gazing at me with his head at a horrible angle. I let out a hitched gasp, stepping back.

"There's only one thing you can do," he whispers. "... _ **GeT oUt WHilE yOu StiLL CaN**_!"

I've been sprinting away for several long moments before I realise how quickly I've limped along and how much ground I have covered. My breath is light and as fast as a hovercraft in full motion. I have to get out!

It's one long trek to the exit and as I run along I fear I may never get out. It might be that there's no exit and I've already been dead since I woke up, unaware of my looming fate. It can't be much longer until the cave collapse. I swallow the bile, forcing myself to move faster.

I dare to glance over my shoulder, though now all I see is nothing. No sign of the dead tributes anymore. The hallucinations might be starting to wear off, though I won't assume a thing yet. Not with how the cave is starting to turn purple again.

My heart aches as I think of what I saw, the gruesome state of the dead. How can anybody justify such actions to be inflicted upon the youths of society?

"How could they do that to you, Jason. How could _they_ do that to anybody," I whisper as I stumble my way along. "No child deserves the Arena! This is _**disgusting**_ , this is... is..."

I have the good sense to shut up before I outright scorn the Capitol by name. That'd be a good way to get the mines to collapse on me right away, or perhaps cause something even worse to happen later on. Self-preservation keeps me silent, but after what I've just seen and all that I've witnessed beforehand... it feels wrong to say nothing.

Father has his position, of course, but he doesn't speak out. Mayor or not, he'd be tried with treason much like any common folk might be. But... this might be an ever so slightly crazy theory, but if I were a Victor _and_ the mayor, then maybe I'd be able to gain a real foothold to do something. It'd take years and allowing for much loss of life until the day arrives, but if I could just gain power, keep it and direct it with precision...

That's later. Escaping the cave comes first.

As I stumble along I suddenly freeze, hearing the sound of footsteps. Are they another hallucination, or could this be something real? I have no idea which one is the reality.

Groaning.

Rapid footsteps.

Real or not real, I'm getting out of here either way!

As I make my way forth I think I can vaguely get an idea of where the footsteps are coming from. Not behind me, thankfully, but not in front of me either. It's... somewhere off to the side, as if through the wall. Is this proof it's not real, or is it another tunnel nearby?

The drone did say that I wasn't the only tribute who fell into this place...

I round a corner, full of desperation. I can only sigh in so much relief that my lungs are emptied for a moment.

Daylight, dead ahead!

I would assume this exit, or entrance depending on the direction you come from, only got formed because of the tributes trapped underground. Had nobody fell, I bet it wouldn't be there. Why would they just let us out of bounds? Sounds like a good way to make their nasty Hunger Games derail. I'm honestly just grateful that there a way out of here and they're not just crushing me into a fine paste without a second thought. Never thought I'd fee any gratitude to the Capitol, but anything is better than being dead.

I make my way towards the gaping cave maw leading to the surface. I sigh in relief, closing my eyes in a moment of content as the sunlight basks my face. Never again will I fail to realise just how wonderful being out in the sunshine truly is. A joy one cannot best appreciate until they no longer have it.

Though, I still feel awful both in mind and matter, so I might lose it forever if I fail to take heed and be careful.

Step one, get out of here.

Step two, hide in a bush and plan the next move.

I reach the exit, a step from freedom, and just... sigh, deeply. Relief like this cannot be overstated, to be perfectly honest. One the hallucinations finally stop and I locate food, water and medicine then I might feel like something resembling myself again.

That or maybe I'll stop feeling so terrified. My heartbeat is rapid and I'm still shivering all over. The things I saw in this underground cave won't leave me for an ever so long time. I shiver, thinking back to Jason's ghost and the way the other fall tributes were bleeding so very horrifically.

To say I'm on edge would be like saying the Hunger Games are a touch mean. It's a bizarre understatement.

Just as I step foot out into the overground once again I feel a hand on my shoulder.

NO!

"Nett-URK!"

I stare, horrified by what I have just done. It was reflex, it was pure reflex and fear. I never meant to do this, I never would've if I'd have known, honest!

Cinder sways on the spot, staring at me in a mixture of horror and heartbreak, an expression that matching my own. We'd be almost like a mirror image if not for our different facial features and hair colours...

...Or, if not for my axe that is now struck at least an inch and a half into the space right between her shoulder and neck. The blood pours out, quick and gruesome.

"Why..." she manages to say. "I..."

Her eyes roll backwards into her head and she falls backwards with a thud, laying crumbled upon her side.

The boom of the cannon brings me to action.

"No! No!" I scream as I quickly kneel beside her. "Not you, not now... I didn't mean this to happen."

It's empty words lacking meaning. My occasional ally and sometimes semi-friend is dead by my own hand and axe. Clove was self-defence, this was murder. It's all I can do to try and rationalise it as me being taken off of my guard.

The scariest part is that despite feeling guiltier over this kill than I did when I killed Clove, I don't feel as sick or disgusted. Maybe it's true, maybe it does get a little bit easier after the first time. I can only hope that I shan't get too used to this.

I can't help but shudder when I think of the Victor from Ten that holds the kill record. The girl who beat around twelve tributes to death with a rather solid shoe. I wouldn't want to go down that particular path of crazy.

A rumble brings me back to reality. Time's up, I need to move now. I grab my axe out of Cinder, ready to get moving... the part of me that cares for citizen welfare, bizarre as it may be in this case, keeps me from abandoning Cinder's corpse. Her family deserve to at least have a body to bury, not whatever paste might be salvaged from the rubble.

I'm already at the exit, so it's not hard to quickly drag Cinder out into daylight as well. A few moments after I've gotten us both outside and towards some bushes for cover the cave collapses, completely blocked off in moments.

The drone said other _tributes_ fell besides me. Tributes, as in more than just Cinder. I stay silent, waiting another cannon to fire. Maybe a family will have to settle for gross, fleshy paste after all...

Silence is all I hear. I suppose whoever the third tribute to fall was, they've already gotten out a while ago. Perhaps they found another exit or came this way earlier. I glance around quickly, afraid somebody might be very nearby.

Nothing.

Alone - for now, at least - I sombrely look down at Cinder. She saves me from crocodiles, and this is the way she gets repaid. An axe to the neck.

I'll owe her family a serious apology on the tour. The pre-written message can kindly sod off. I'll make it much more personal and take full responsibility.

But until then, if I even live that long, I kneel down and gently cross her arms over and, with shaking hands, close her eyes.

"Sleep well," I say to her. "You were a credit to your District. An exceptional citizen. ...I didn't mean for this, I just hope you knew that before..."

I trail off, shaking my head. I'm wasting time. I didn't know her, not really. It doesn't make it any less wrong or terrible, but it does mean it makes less sense to be out in the open where anybody might attack me. With only an axe and some adrenaline, I'd be easy pickings.

I quickly search through Cinder's pockets for anything useful. Seems that, much like me, she'd lost a lot of her stuff too. Just a few meal-bars, a bandage and a small packet of some berries. Wait, hang on a moment.

Nightlock!

Why would Cinder be carrying these? I saw her easily pass the edible plants and insects test back at the training centre. Surely she'd know these are deadly? Even I know that, and I hardly get out these days. Unless... perhaps they were to be used to poison tributes? An ugly thought, but one that I cannot deny could be a decent tactic. Or, perhaps if things were looking terrible, a painless suicide.

Putting the berries away I keep looking and find one last thing. My heart feels quite heavy as I get up and start to hobble away into the depths of the forest, the object held firm in my hand.

Cinder's butterfly ring is back with me a second time, soon put in my pocket with the other tribute tokens.

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

It seems like the Gamemakers are starting to hold off on the rain. For the first time since the first few hours of the Games there isn't any rain, nor a mass of rain-clouds. It's a sunny day and one that, if not for the fact there are six other people who might be able to kill me if they see, I'd love to do some tanning in.

Only six to go. I can almost see Seven again, myself relaxing by the pool and soaking up some rays while Ranger... well, he's there too. I don't want to get too obsessed over returning home and letting my guard down, but it's hard not to. From twenty four down to only seven, assuming nobody died when I was unconcious; it may not even go on much longer. One can only hope.

While the low tribute number and lovely weather bring me some relief, this doesn't take away the fact I feel oh so very shitty after the fall I took. It can't remove my hunger or thirst either. After all, Cinder didn't have much. Most of the meal-bars are eaten and the bandage has been carefully applied to my leg.

Sore leg, pierced arm, cut shoulder... I hardly look elegant, my reflection in the water pools I pass tells me as much.

I'm not a princess, but perhaps a soldier. Soldiers survive, and not every tribute can survive for a week in these Games. Just seven, evidently. I _think_ it's day seven anyway, but who can say for sure how long I was unconscious for? Clearly for a full night at the very least.

Anyway, even with the sun out for the day the Arena is still flooded badly. I can't help but wonder just how much ground is left for the last seven to walk on. It can't even be a quarter of the amount that it started as, certainly not.

I'm making my way up a dirt slope, one sunbaked and thankfully not slippy. This part of the forest must have gotten a lot of sunlight to dry up so quick; I bet it was muddy beyond belief just as recently as yesterday. Dry or not, I can't miss the distant lake I see from where I'm standing.

I can see two crocodiles in the water, slowly swimming lazy circles around each other.

I pant a little, swallowing down my saliva for what little hydration it may give me. I feel bad, but at least the hallucinations seem to have finally stopped. I shan't miss those horrifying visions.

I cheer upon making it to the top of the slope. The sight I see is truly unmistakable; I've seen these things both in the training centre and back in Seven. Blackberries! Entire bushes of them, too. I remember having tasted them many times before. A quick way to satisfy hunger, and best of all the juiciness might keep thirst at bay for a while.

I rapidly grab the blackberries into my hands, stuffing myself with a distinct lack of manners. I feel certain my Escort would be tutting at the sight, but I never cared for the man particularly much.

"Life is beautiful!" I sob out, overjoyed that I'm actually able to eat something nice.

I can't fully relax though. As nice as it'd be to rest in the sunshine and sleep off the berry feast I can't shake the nerves that I might be being watched, or could be snuck upon at any time. Whether it's a crocodile or another tribute, neither are preferred nor wanted.

Plus, I need something for this arm wound and my leg. It's not totally destroyed my ability to use that arm or walk properly, but the pain isn't easy to ignore and if infection sets in... it'll be every so bad, to be perfectly frank. Victor's have lost limbs and still won in past Games, such as Chaff from Eleven... but he was powerful and really big. I'm tiny.

I'd rather just keep all of my limbs attached, please and thank you.

After the bushes have been picked clean, at which point hunger and thirst are no longer plaguing me, I get up to keep on the move. A light rain shower has begun, thankfully one of little force. Certainly nothing close to the downpours of days gone by. As I walk along - naturally, the exact opposite direction of the crocodiles - I try to catch some raindrops in my mouth.

That, and I try to forget about the murder I committed barely over three hours ago. It feels worse, because unlike Clove I had actually gotten along with Cinder. Then again, maybe she'd have been more than ready to kill me if it came down to it. Perhaps I am being a touch oversensitive.

Or maybe I still have some form of humanity left within me. Maybe the hurt I feel is a sign I'm not too far gone from remaining as the young woman I entered this arena has. Not yet, at least.

I cease my movement as the telltale sonar of a sponsor enters my ears. I look around, spotting it quickly. It glides down towards me and I can see already that, per the norm, there are no supplies coming with it. Just a note.

I sigh, wondering what Johanna may have to say to me this time. I can't imagine it would be anything particularly good; when is it ever good news when it comes to Johanna Mason?

As I start to read the note I can only wince, my suspicions proven right.

- _Walking Corpse._

 _Are you kidding me? Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me? You had a prime chance when on that boat to take out Katniss, Cato and Marvel all in one go. You'd have proven yourself a true contender if you had just threw the damn landmine at them. Even just trying to do so would've make you a sponsor favourite. But no, you pass up any chance you get for some bullshit, 'human' reason and only survived because the Arena is falling apart in some places. You're hopeless, a District disgrace._

 _Well, screw this. I'm out. I officially quit being your Mentor and instead accept the position of drinker at a bar. Blight is taking over from now on, not that you'll live long enough to get any sponsors nor would you receive them anyway. May the odds be **ever** in your favour._

 _Johanna fucking Mason_.-

I silently let the note fall to the ground, my mind swimming with hundreds of thoughts. Johanna's ditched me. She's said such scathing things! ...In some ways she is absolutely correct.

I start to chuckle, which becomes a mad giggle and soon enough I've gone from a loud laugh to near hysterics. One might think I am going crazy. Honestly, one might be accurate to make such a guess.

I'm not even sad, just kind of in shock. Though really, I don't see it mattering that Johanna has ditched me. She was never there for me in the first place, so I don't see this remotely changing my odds of winning. Maybe Blight would be a better Mentor; he'd put his own tribute before me, but I can see him at least trying to maybe sort of help me, unlike Johanna.

"Fine, leave me then," I say, sniffing in a way perhaps overly snooty. "Or, are you leaving? That would imply you'd even been here for a moment, Johanna. When I get out of here, we will be having _words_."

Silence is my only answer. Well, silence besides the gentle rainfall. It pitter patters around the forest, a gentle howl of wind passing through as the rain strikes the leaves of the trees with a noise that doesn't quite match the gentle way it falls.

Walking on, after hiding the parachute in a bush of course, I ponder where to go next. Spotting a distant grassy mountain I make my choice in an instant. If the water keeps raising - and if they figure out how to do it without destroying the Arena - then that'll be where the last safe ground shall be located. And even if it doesn't end there, it's the high ground. I'd see people coming.

I can only hope that nobody will be there, able to see me moving in. But, if I am gonna get out of here, I'll almost certainly have to make a third kill. Might as well get myself in the proper state of mind to do what must be done. The nightlock in my pocket would make it painless for them... if nothing else, it'd not plague my conscious quite as much.

I got given a second chance after my foolish hesitance. I won't hesitate again, not when I've seen just how easy it is to lose almost everything if you do.

I just hope that somebody might sponsor me something for this arm wound. It's ever so sore.

* * *

 **(Time passes...)**

* * *

It was a fitful, uncomfortable slumber but at least one where I wasn't disturbed. Opening my eyes and holding back a yawn, I blink my eyes a little and take note of the world around me once again.

The inside of the log looks the same as it was several hours ago. Dirty and grimy to high hell. But, it's a good hiding spot. I guess few tributes would think to look inside a log as only myself and Urchin, probably, can fit inside them. Makes it a great place to take a nap.

Having rested for a while I feel a lot more refreshed, though certainly no more cheerful than I had been before. At least now I can think a lot clearer, lacking fatigue or any venom within me.

I poke my head out of the log and, seeing that the coast is clear, I drag myself out of it and into the open once again. Seems like everything is much the same as it was before I hid myself and slept. A deep area of the forest, the ground covered in clovers as far as the eye can see and many an imposingly tall, twisted tree dotted around. The water hasn't flooded this section of the forest just yet, but it's truly only a matter of time I would suspect.

"Not the worst sleep ever," I yawn, standing and stretching myself out. Ahhhh, that feels nice. "Ok, what next..."

With all my allies separated from me - or dead while I was out of it, as I cannot assume this to be impossible - it all rests on me to get things done. With just seven, at most, of us left it's not going to last very much longer. All but one of us might be dead in as few as two days. I just have to be that one.

I try to ignore the throbbing in my leg, arm, shoulder and heart as I consider my endgame plan. It's not uncommon for a Hunger Games to end up at or nearby the Cornucopia, but as that's below the water now it could really end anywhere. High ground, more likely than not, and I guess that makes it all the better I was going there anyway.

I think the best move now is to get there first and set up some kind of a fort to stop anybody reaching me too easily. Though, who might I end up having to face when the so-called finale arrives and the grim shit truly hits in the fan? Which option is the most feasible for me to win, or at least the option of the least agony?

I think over my competition as I walk along, taking head to keep my steps quiet just in case. Even now, they could be getting near me and all I have is a battered body and an axe for defence. Not the best of odds, even if perhaps not the worst either.

Marvel, absolutely not. He's almost killed me more than once and came so close last time... he has no supplies now, but that tracker jacker gear could also function as light armour. Even with his supplies all gone, he'd be a truly deadly opponent. Worse yet, a foe who is coming after me specifically... indeed, he is perhaps the worst tribute to go head to head against.

Cato, I similarly would prefer to never ever see again for as long as I live... as in, up to when I leave this deadly place. With his size, his muscles and how violent his fits of rage can be... I gag, sickly as I think back to the way he beat Peeta to death. I'd have no chance against him whatsoever. The only mercy is he might not draw it out as much as Marvel, and perhaps his rage could be exploited.

Gadget is, so say the odds, the weakest tribute physically and even with how she towers over me I think she'd be easy to kill... if not for those landmines she's lugging around. They give her one hell of an advantage. Plus, killing the younger tributes just feels all kinds of gross to think about.

Urchin is even smaller than I am and I think I'd be able to overpower him pretty easily. He scored an eight but, well, he's still twelve. But he's one solid swimmer, being from Four, and that might give him an upper hand. Plus, killing a kid... I know I said I'd not hesitate, but crossing that sort of a line is a terrible feeling. But, better than that death I suppose. At least I'm still allied with him and Gadget so they'd be unlikely to kill me if I find them soon.

Wood... we've had our ups and downs but he's from my District. You don't kill your District Partner. You just _**don't**_. Not until only two are left, and at that point Wood no doubt won't hesitate to unleash a frenzy of spear-tipped pain right into me. I just think it'd be altogether insane to kill one of my own citizens. Well, father's citizens but the point stands nonetheless. He'd overpower me anyway.

Rammy, the powerful boy from Ten. No allies at all and yet he's still in this thing. A bit bloodied last I saw him, but I don't think it'd keep him down for particularly long. Not only is he strong, but unlike the Careers I think he might be able to keep alive off of the Arena wildlife and plants. Maybe he's a bigger danger than them now. I mean, as my shoulder wound can attest to... he's no slouch in the art of beating people up.

"Well, that got me nowhere," I can't help but mutter as I gently slide myself down a steep dirt hill, harmlessly reaching the bottom. "They're either too big and dangerous, or so young I'd feel so awful I dare not imagine it. Nuts."

...I guess pragmatically, I'd hope for Urchin. I guess the obvious answer, then, is to search him out and make sure he stays alive until the end with me. At that point, well, I just have to hope he won't get me off guard before I could swing the axe.

I'd make it quick.

I walk on aimlessly for a while, my only focus being getting myself towards that distant mountain. Most likely the others may be heading that way too, and if I can find Urchin along the way then that just makes it all the better.

I come to a quick pause as I enter another clearing amongst the deep forest. A blackberry bush with half of the berries picked off catches my attention quickly, but then my attention is off of it just as quickly when I see what litters the ground of the clearing.

Mutt corpses. All around here lay a whole flock of grotesque silver and cyan birds. As I carefully step over and around them towards the berries I don't fail to miss the fact their wings are razer sharp at the tips.

The blood - most likely from a human, I would assume - that stains the wings of some of them has me retching in seconds. I hold down the vomit as best as I can and pick berries to eat. I can't help but adore them; after what I have been through, being able to eat fine blackberries is practically the height of luxury.

Glancing at the dead Mutts I can't help but wonder who killed this many of them. They'd have to be every so strong to pull it off.

The spear wounds I see in the bodies makes my heart skip a beat. Marvel!

Despite my panic as I glance all around me I remain just barely calm enough to recall an important fact. Wood also has a spear. He may have come this way too, and perhaps... maybe he'd let me talk? Apologise for ditching him, at least. It felt like the correct decision in the moment, but I just don't want him thinking I hated him or wanted him to meet his death.

I mean, I guess if technicalities are used I suppose I do on some level, if only so I can go home. I'm sure he'd feel the same in this way.

Looking around for any sort of clue my eyes eventually gaze in the direction of some shredded fabric on the ground. Of course, it could only be from a tribute's outfit. What other clothing is there in the Arena? It doesn't look like something off of a blanket or backpack, so tribute clothing is all is could really be from.

I hold my breath as I slowly hold it up for a closer look, bracing myself for the fright that will ensue if I see the avocado green that is the signature colour of District One.

It's not.

Instead, russet brown is the colour that I am seeing on this piece of fabric. I pause, raising my brow as I glance down at my own clothes. Perhaps it's true that the dirt and water has ruined them a but, but some of the original colour remains. One glance tells me all that I need to know; it's a perfect match. Wood must have come by this way! But... how long ago?

It feels so sick, gross, nasty, horribly sick... ahem... bad as it is, I carefully tap my finger against one of the blood soaked, sharp wings of a dead Mutt. Not enough to hurt myself, but enough to get a small splat of the blood onto my finger. I heave a bit, trying not to be sick from the mere sight of blood as I slowly feel it about between my finger and thumb.

It's still wet!

As many would know, blood dries if it is left out to the air for too long. An hour or so, if I recall what that trainer back in the Capitol mentioned. The thing is, this blood is still wet. Fresh. Certainly not spilled particularly long ago.

Wood might still be nearby, possibly in bad shape. I quickly wipe my hand on the ground to get rid of the blood, muttering over how insanitary it all is. Getting up, I look around for any clues as to where Wood may have gone from here.

Footprints give me quite the clear indicator. I'm quickly on my way, limping along as quick as I can. I'd run, but I think I'd be better off if I saved me energy. Besides, I don't think Wood will be running particularly fast if he's been hurt. I wonder, also, if he may have fallen into the caves as well...

I guess I'll ask him when I see him. I'm sure, much like always, he'll have quite a few things to say. Perhaps some particularly harsh words too. Well, I'll take it with my head held high. I may have been a touch bitchy before.

"Ok Wood, where have you gotten to," I whisper, walking along and keeping my eyes open. I can't afford to miss a thing going on around me.

* * *

 **(Not much later...)**

* * *

The day is passing quickly, the mid-afternoon sun quickly turning into a near sunset. I'd say it won't be a full two hours before darkness descends. I can only hope I'll find a decent place to rest in that time. The grassy mountain looms nearer, but it'll still take me a while to reach it. That's fine. At least it could be argued that I am getting plenty of exercise...

I can't help but feel uneasy in my trek through the deepest parts of the forest. The clover that covered ground has vanished, instead leaving behind a surface of many, many weeds. Not just that, but all the trees around here are ever so creepy. Macabre incarnate. Their bark is dark and gnarled, and what few leaves they have look half eaten. I thought one of them was watching me for a moment, but perhaps it was just my imagination running away with me a bit.

The footprints have vanished into the weeds, but now I've got a new sort of trail to follow. One made of blood, a new splatter staining a tree here and there. Much like the blood on the Mutt wings, it's fresh. Wood must be in bad shape... that, or he has a pain threshold beyond anything I'd assumed to be possible. I've seen stranger things at this point.

I want to call out for him, just in case he's nearby. Thing is, anybody - or any _thing_ \- might be nearby too, and giving myself away certainly wouldn't end well. Only in severe pain.

"Come on, give me a sign," I whisper as I pass through the area. "Is he close?"

A panicked scream fills the forest around me. I'd call it convenient, but there is the issue of how it means Wood is in danger and... nuts...

I gotta move!

My leg feels nasty as I sprint along through the woods. I clearly need much more than a bandage for my leg, but maybe it can wait for a while. It just has to. One of my citizens is in danger! I just hope I'm not too battered to be able to put up a decent fight.

Wood screams again, sounding a bit choked. This gets me running even faster towards where he must be located. Not far now... hang in there Wood. I'm on my way!

As I race up as best I can to the top of a slope I hear the sound of two boys yelling and shouting, one clearly more pained than the other. The pained voice I, of course, know to be Wood. The other one takes me a few moments to recognise. I'm at the top of the slope before I can recall it. At that point, the sight below tells me all that I have to know for the looming battle.

Wood desperately fights against Rammy, trying his hardest to use his spear to strike at Rammy and deflect the boy from Ten's attacks. It's clear to me, though, that Rammy has got the upper hand here with how Wood's prior injuries can't be making things easy for him to focus. That massive axe of his is proving to be more than Wood can deal with, one particularly hard downward strike snapping the spear cleanly in half.

"End of the line, partner," Rammy says as he swiftly kicks Wood to the ground.

I should think not! I start to charge down the slope as fast as my small legs can carry me. I honestly never knew that I could be so quick on my feet.

"Get lost, get lost, get lost!" Wood screams, his voice high and hoarse, sweat pouring down it just like blood pours down his left hip. "No!"

"Nothing personal from my end," Rammy says, a foot laid upon Wood's chest as he raises up the axe.

Wood pales, but then his eyes suddenly rest upon me as I spring closer. I don't miss the flicker of relief, glee even, which appears in his eyes.

I would make a statement here for some effect, perhaps demand Rammy to leave my citizen alone or to prepare himself for the power of a politician. But, that'd just give me away and give him a chance to fight back and perhaps kill both Wood and myself.

I think slamming my axe down into his shoulder is a much more effective way to announce my presence. His blood curdling scream confirms I was right.

Rammy staggers in agony, stepping off of Wood and dropping his axe to the ground. I reach to grab my axe out of his shoulder but he's already gotten himself out of range. I take the chance to snatch up his own, much bigger, axe and hold it tightly. I seethe, my eyes narrows into a dangerous look that might make me appear to be a tad crazy. Ok, more than a tad to be honest.

"AARRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!" Rammy's scream makes my ears throb from the volume. My gut tightens horribly when I see the leaking blood. So gross... "Nnrrrggh! Shit, shit!"

He yanks the axe out, screaming again. His whole body shudders and writhes as he tries to hold it, turning to face me. He frowns, paling a bit when he sees I'm holding his axe and looking at him coldly.

Don't hesitate. Not again.

"You," he whispers, gritting his teeth.

"Me," I confirm. "Seems Wood and I hold the advantage here. Your move Rammy; run and hide, or stay and die."

Wood staggers back to his feet beside me, cursing and muttering about how his soul feels broken. How very grim. He takes a knife from his pocket, shuddering in pain as he points it towards Rammy.

We stand in a silent stand-off for a few long moments.

"You're strong," Rammy says, giving me a short nod despite the agony he must feel. "But you're still small and-."

"Time's up!" I say, coldly.

 _Don't hesitate_.

I lunge forwards, bringing the axe down. Rammy saw it coming, only just, and leapt backwards out of the way. Holding his free hand to his bleeding shoulder he keeps stepping backwards.

"I know a lost battle when I see one," he says as he turns and sprints off into the forest without looking back.

I'm ready to try and throw the axe at him, my high state of adrenaline overriding my sense of unease over murder, but I'm distracted from this plan when Wood kneels over in pain. Between Rammy and my citizen, I pick the latter. I don't feel right leaving Wood here in pain, and I think Rammy is running off faster than I could keep pace with anyway. With him being hurt badly I don't think he'll get far.

"How can I help?" I ask, kneeling beside Wood.

He takes a few deep breathes, gesturing to his fallen backpack that lays a few feet away.

"Blue jar," he rasps out.

I'm quick to obey, grabbing it out of his backpack without delay. Wood removes his jacket and shirt and all I can do is flinch at the sight. Cuts are there, no doubt caused by those dead bird mutts I passed earlier. A few welts and bruises are visible too, and an axe wound to his left hip. Despite all the pain, Wood manages to give me a wolfish grin.

"I know I'm good looking and I don't mind if you're gonna stare, but just remember you have a boyfriend and I kinda don't have much use for the feminine tributes if you get my drift," he says, snickering in spite of the pain.

"Oh, come off at," I huff, unable to hide my amusement. "Ok, this... will probably sting? I'm not sure. Just brace yourself, ok?"

"Sure," he says, relaxing himself and becoming still as a statue.

Some time passes in this way, Wood hissing from the stinging ever now and then while I apply the mixture from the blue jar as best as I can. I have no idea what it does, exactly, but whatever the purpose of the mixture on a technical level it's doing its job fine. Wood's cuts are already looking much better, the leaking blood cleared away and the cuts themselves starting to close up. I toss the empty jar to the side, laying on my back.

I let out a deep sigh, just laying quietly for a minute while Wood redresses and becomes just as quiet. It's hard to know what to say next, really.

Actually, no. After maybe a minute and a half I know just what to say.

"I'm sorry I ditched you," I tell him. "Sure, it felt good for my own chances and I wasn't happy over you trying manipulate me, but... it's a very stressful situation we're in. I judged you way too harshly."

"And here I was thinking you just thought I was ugly. It did damage to my very delicate disposition Damage you wouldn't believe," he says, chuckling.

"Oh sod off..." I groan, smirking a bit as well. "Still... we good?"

"As good as any pair of tributes can be," he says, nodding. He even smiles. "...I mean, choosing two kids over _me_ kinda hurt me go, but whatever. I've had worse happen. Like these stupid bird mutts that got me."

"I saw the bodies," I say, nodding warily. "That was a lot to put upon one tribute. You piss off the Gamemakers or something?"

"Only if they feel jealous of my looks," he says, shrugging. "I've been killing mutts to keep sponsors interested. I asked for them to send a few."

"Be careful what you ask of others," I say, shaking my head.

"Yeah, I know that _now_ ," he huffs. "That guy just came out of nowhere. I had no idea he was in the area."

"Maybe he fell under the Arena and came out from the exit I did?" I suggest to him. "That happened to me too. The flood is making the Arena fall to pieces in some areas as the ground cannot take the pressure. I fell down there and so did Cinder."

"Cinder?" Wood asks me.

"Girl from Five," I say. I grimace, thinking of her nasty death earlier today at my own hands. "Maybe Rammy fell down, reached the exit first and... well, jumped you. Good thing I was here."

Wood nods, tiredly sipping some water from a bottle. He wordlessly offers me the bottle and I accept it, chugging it down.

"Thank you," he says, as sincere as I've ever heard him be. "Panem almost became an even worse place. Just think, no more me. But seriously, you saved me... thanks. You really came through for me... you could've just let him kill me and then killed him right after, but you saved me instead. You really are unusual."

"I'd call myself a patriot for Seven. I mean, what kind of a mayor-to-be just lets one of their people get slaughtered in the dirt?" I ask, sitting myself up. "I may have issues hesitating to take action and maybe complaining a lot, but I'm _**not**_ letting a citizen of Seven just die on me."

Wood looks me over, nodding to himself. He pats me on the back, smiling as he chuckles.

"You know Nettle, I once thought you were just a tiny, spoiled princess who never really got out much or had the most intriguing of personalities," he tells me, thoughtful. "But now..."

"Yeah?" I ask.

"I see you're all that and so much more"," he says, teasingly.

"Humph! Cheeky git!" I pout, turning up my nose at him.

"Hey, I never said I was an angel," he shrugs, winking. "I'm just saying, you're more than people tend to give you credit for. I assumed you'd die early - I honestly thought you had before I noticed you were not in the death anthem - but you're still here. Strong with words, strong with heart, strong enough to smash an axe into that guy's shoulder... you're a warrior."

"Oh, stop..."I mumble, blushing at the praise. It's not often I get my ego stroked like this and, shy as I feel over it, I can't help but appreciate it. "I got very lucky though, you know? I mean, if the Arena hadn't started to collapse... yeah."

"I can't judge that considering how if you had died I'd also be dead," Wood says, shrugging. "Besides, uh, plenty of Victors have gotten seriously lucky. I can think of like ten offhand that did. You're hardly the most lucky tribute there ever was. _Maybe_ top fourteen if I am being generous."

"That... is also a point," I agree, slowly nodding. "Remember Spud Munroe, the boy who won the Games with the spiked maces?"

"Yeah... lucky bastard," Wood agrees. "We both got lucky today."

"...It did bring us closer though, didn't it?" I say, smiling as I scoot closer to Wood. "I like this, being able to really bond with one of my citizens."

"Aw shit, are you turning this into a thing?" he asks me, groaning playfully.

"I am not! I'm just being nice!" I insist.

"You're totally making this a thing," he groans.

"Am not!" I huff.

"I see a sparkling tear in your eye," he says, flatly.

I wipe it away quickly from impulse.

"Just some dust," I say, swiftly.

"If you start crying and then hug me I _will_ pretend to not know you," he warns me.

It's not long before we're both laughing. Soon, we rise and move over to sit on a nearby log. Wood willingly shares out some of his food and water. It's so good! As he tends to my arm wound I repay him with information.

"So, Cinder's gone?" he asks, considering this. "Honestly, not like she was the biggest threat or ever would be, but one step closer to the end either way. Who else is left besides Ten? Use numbers not names, it makes it easier in the end."

"Boy from One, Boy from Two, Girl from Three and Boy from Four," I say to him. I can't keep their names out of my mind though... Wood has a point, knowing their names just makes it harder to do what must be done. "Those Careers are fearsome. Even without any supplies they're gonna be tough."

"Not just that but Cato is objectively hot. Too bad his personality is shit to the point I'd choose a mutt over him," Wood says as he finishes fixing me up. "Feel better?"

"A bit, yes," I reply. "So, I'm thinking we could head to the grassy mountain. If the flood gets worse and the Gamemakers work out how to stop parts of this place collapsing from the weight of it then that'd be the last place the water would reach."

"Works for me," he says, getting to his feet. "I was gonna be going there anyway because, duh, what you've said is great common sense. Let's roll."

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

The golden glow of the sunset is cast down upon us. Rain clouds are moving in, starting to cover the sky once more. Either we're due more flooding and they got the Arena under control, or Seneca has decided that he doesn't care if the Arena starts to collapse any more than it already has. Father says the man only has showbiz on the brain, so it doesn't strike me as a stretch for him to decide 'screw it' and just keep going as he has been.

Wood and I have been walking along for a while now, hoods up and weapons held tightly. His spear might be gone, but Wood clearly isn't the sort to carry around just one weapon. Or, perhaps not only two because it's not his knife that he is holding. It's a hatchet, much the same kind as the one I used nearer the start of the Games.

I can't help but feel glad I grabbed the bigger, better axe before Wood could. I feel much safer holding it in my own hands.

"We should stop for the night soon," I say to Wood. "There's only seven of us left. The finale may happen sooner than later, and we'll need to be rested."

"Let's give it another half hour," he replies. "The closer we are, the better."

I don't argue the point, just nodding and continuing to follow along beside him. He's right, the closer we are the better off we shall be. Less distance to run if it's flooded and more chance of being the first ones there. I still hope that Urchin could be my last opponent, but if I'm allying myself with Wood for the long-haul now... well, I can work with that. I think he's still in more pain than he is letting on, so _maybe_ I could win a duel?

"So, final eight is when they do family interviews right?" Wood asks.

"That's correct. By now they'll have probably finished recording them, or be close to doing so," I say, nodding. "More than likely any footage of Cinder's family interview will be cut."

"Makes sense," Wood says. "What do you think our families said? I think ma and my brother would be pretty supportive and worried for me. Ma would no doubt get a few sponsors interested in me and Bramble, who's _awesome_ by the way, probably did his best to make another tribute come off worse. Maybe I'm wrong, probably not, but... I guess I just miss them."

He trails off for a moment, shaking his head.

"What about you?" he asks me.

"What about what?" I reply.

"Your family. Any ideas what they'd say?" he asks, curious.

"Well, father is the only family I have," I say, frowning forlornly. "Mother died quite a while back and, well, we're distant. He has all his responsibilities that require his time and I just stay in the manor a lot; it's just a gradual thing between us. A gradual lack of anything. I'm sure he loves me, but it sometimes feels e hardly know each other. I think I could've done a lot better as a daughter, y'know? Maybe spent more time with him, ask if I could've went with him to work, do some work around the manor for him. I don't know, this is probably awkward to hear."

"Ah, don't worry," Wood assures me. "It's far, far worse."

"Ruffian," I huff. "So yeah, I don't know what he would say."

"How about your boyfriend?" Wood asks me. "Two questions; is he hot and, less importantly, if you're in the house a bunch how did you guys meet?"

I can't help but blush a bit, thinking of the man waiting for me back home. I just hope it won't end up as an eternal wait.

"Firstly, he's hot. Like, triple as hot as you," I tease, giggling.

"Impossible!" Wood gasps.

"No, really, he is," I say, fanning myself. His muscular arms, his windblown and oh so smooth brunette hair, that natural tan... "As for how we met, well, he's a lumberjack as you may well guess. Father hired several lumberjacks to cut down a section of forest near the property - I think it was getting in the way of a statue or something, I don't remember - and Ranger was one of them. I was thirteen, he was fourteen and I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. I was, uh, kind of starved of social interaction and hadn't seen a boy up close in some time. Uh, anyway..."

I stammer for a moment, trying to regain my train of thought. Oh, how ever so awkward this is right now. But, that's love. It's awkward all the way.

"So, anyway, I sat on the porch and just watched the men work for a while. The porch became a rock nearer to them and that turned into a log even closer. Ranger came over to introduce himself and... we just talked. No social stigmas, no thought of 'it's the lazy mayor's daughter', just a nice talk together. He had to go eventually, but it wasn't like the job could be done in just one day so he kept coming by every day for two weeks. Sometimes we'd talk, sometimes I'd bring him some water or food he'd not be able to buy otherwise. After bonding and just getting to know each other it was only normal we'd get along and start to get attached."

"Sounds nice," Wood admits. "Nothing flashy like I was expecting, but... nice."

"Not every romance has to be over the top and jaw dropping," is my response to him. "One day I was bringing him out a tray of cookies I'd baked. Maybe they weren't, uh, appetizing but I'd really wanted to do something nice for my friend. Well, one lumberjack hadn't chopped one of the trees correctly. A tad overeager to finish his shift, that one. The tree would have crushed me as it fell, but thankfully Ranger swooped in to save the day. He tackled me out of the way just before it was too late. The cookies were ruined, of course, but I hardly cared. I was just glad to be alive!"

I can't help but smile, remembering how I'd gotten a tad overeager and peppered his face with kisses in gratitude for that heroic action. Of course, I'd been so relieved at the time I hadn't quite realised the... little issue that had happened to Ranger.

"The tree hit Ranger's leg pretty bad. The short of the matter is that he had to have a metal one built and put in its place. Luckily, father had it all sorted out. It was hard for him, having to learn to walk all over again, but I was there to help him every step of the way," I say. Those were the days... very personal and close. I was so very dedicated to paying him back for keeping me safe. "It wasn't much longer after that we started to properly date."

"He loses a leg, but gains a girl... hm, I've heard of worse trades. Like, the trade of food in return ro your name being in the bowl more times," Wood remarks. "Sweet story though. Never heard it myself, but I guess it's no wonder. I'm nowhere near your area. But, with how Ranger has a fake leg does that mean he's able to work with the other lumberjacks?"

"Father has him under a special contract to work with the other lumberjacks we have as long-term staff," I tell him. "Keeps us close and happy. I want to get back to all, so badly."

"Maybe you will," Wood says, lightly. "But, a question... a serious one."

Wood pauses, his expression nothing short of deadly calm.

"Have you guys ever had a romp in the woods?" he asks, suddenly grinning wolfishly.

"WOOD!" I screech, eyes wide. The nerve of this young man! The pure nerve, I say! "That's personal! And... and no, no we jolly well have not!"

He just laughs, having no regrets. I guess I should've seen that coming. I try to keep up my pout, but his laughter is quite contagious and soon I giggle a bit.

"Sorry, not sorry," he says, smirking. "Anyway, maybe you'll see him again soon enough."

"I sure hope so. Honestly, I don't feel like I've even began to repay him for how he saved my life way back then," I say, as we carefully clamber over a bunch of fallen logs. "All the more reason to not die."

"The most foolproof plan to win the Hunger Games. Not dying," Wood agrees. "You know, this feels like far enough I think we can stop here."

And so we do. We set down our supplies and just... relax for a moment.

"So, what's the plan tomorrow?" I ask him. "Just keep moving to the mountain?"

"Yeah, exactly that," he says. "Perhaps we'll get lucky and somebody will get themselves killed before we get back on the move, or maybe we'll find somebody before they wake up. I call the next kill, by the way. I need to rack up a higher 'score' to keep sponsor's coming."

"Be my guest," I say, shrugging. Wait... did that tree behind him just move?

"Gladly. Though, chances are we'd just find two tributes at once," he continues. Ok, that tree is moving, I _swear_. "The Careers are together, so are the kids... Rammy's the only one all alone. Actually, killing him would work pretty well."

Nuts!

"WATCH OUT!" I scream, lunching forwards and tackling Wood to the ground.

He begins to shout, but his shouts die out when a thick tree branch swings where he had been standing. We both look up, pale faced.

Yeah... the tree was moving from more than the wind of nature. Staring down at us is what I can only describe as a Tree Mutt. Dark, almost charcoal black bark... thick branches lacking leaves... demonic eyes that appear as light green glows. It's enough to scare even the most formidable of fighters, of which I am not hence why I am screaming.

The bark splits, revealing its mouth full of sharp, wooden teeth. It roars as it uproots itself, six thick roots functioning as its legs. Staring right at us, it seems to _leer_ for a moment.

Nuts...

"Well then..." Wood says, dusting himself off. "We might be a bit fucked."

"More than just a bit," I choke out, shivering.

"All the more reason to fight," he says, gripping his hatchet. "Let's kill it!"

"What?!" I squeal, trembling from my head to my toes. "But it's a huge tree! It's s-s-s-so big!"

"It's a tree, we have axes, we can do this," Wood says, shrugging. "Not like we can run. We'd just be driven back if we tried."

As we dodged another swing of the tree mutt's branches I know that Wood is right. The Gamemakers expect us to put on one massive show, and it's a show we must give them. Tributes can flee sometimes, but there are times where doing so is just asking for more trouble.

The tree mutt roars again and Wood seizes his chance, leaping forth and swinging he axe right at the bark. The Mutt certainly feels it judging by the screech, but I'd not call it a major wound by any means.

I'd call _**this**_ a major wound!

I strike my axe right upon the root leg of the mutt, digging it right into the beast. It shrieks again, horribly loud. I barely yank the axe back out before it swings the branch again. I duck down, the swing going right over me. I suppose I'm such a small target that it's having issues being able to hit me.

"The bark is too strong!" Wood says, dodging another swing before being struck over by a follow up smash. "ACK!"

"Wood!" I scream, running to his aid.

"I'm fine," he says, jumping up. "We need to break through the bark, quick!"

I think hard for any sort of method to do this. What is the weakness of wood? Well obviously it would be axes, but in this case axes are not working properly. So, what else? Hmmm...

...Fire.

Of course!

"Wood, do you still have that jar of napalm?" I ask, praying so hard that he does.

"I do. Why... oh, I see," he says, starting to cackle. "Oh, this'll be good!"

Wood quickly grabs out the jar of napalm and takes aim. He tosses it hard, the jar smashing against the tree mutt and coating it in the extremely flammable mixture. Wood then grabs out a handheld blowtorch, turning it on.

"Stand back," he tells me, his grin widening.

I don't need to be told twice, getting myself a safe distance back. Of course, I still grip my axe and remain ready to battle at a moment's notice. Wood meanwhile takes aim again.

"Hey, eat this!" he yells. "Uwee ha har!"

The torch is thrown right at the mutt and for a moment it's as if all is happening in slow-motion.

The flame makes contact with the napalm.

I yell in alarm, covering up as the tree mutt is engulfed by an explosion of flames. It shrieks and screams in such a grotesque fashion, flailing around blindly. Uncovering my eyes I can see that the thick bark is burning away swiftly, some of it falling off the mutt entirely. The softer, weaker tree trunk beneath has been revealed and is already catching fire as well. We may not even have to use the axes if it'll just burn to death.

"Awesome plan!" Wood says, gripping his hatchet. "Shall we finish this bastard off?"

"We could just let it burn," I say as we move backwards, keeping away from it. "I think it'll die anyway soon enough."

"But that's boring!" Wood teases. He sighs dramatically as the tree mutt screeches and raises up a branch. Oh shit! "We could-."

"LOOK OUT!"

I run to wood and lunge, desperate to get him out of the way. That, or I hope my warning will make him duck and cover before it's too late.

It's too late.

My tackle ends up with me touching air and hitting the ground. Wood screams horrifically, the most awful sound I've heard in my life. I look up, pale as snow, as I see what has happened to him. NO! NO! If I'd just been a second faster...

The burning tree mutt has impaled him with a branch and swings him around, blood being sent flying around. With a roar, the mutt throws him away like a ragdoll. He hits a tree and crumbles to the ground. With another roar, the tree mutt begins to loom near him.

No, I don't think so. I won't allow such a thing to happen.

I. Have. Had. _**ENOUGH**_!

"Get the fuck away from my citizen!" I scream, charging forwards with my axe held tightly.

I'm not quite sure what has come over me. Perhaps the build up of all the pain and stress, maybe a gigantic surge of adrenaline from seeing a citizen from home hurt so badly... possibly the sight of a dying friend.

Whatever it is, it's got me right in the state of mind for a fight. I swing the axe down as hard as my sore body can allow, severing one of the root legs entirely. The tree mutt wobbles and roars in pain, but I'm hardly through with this uncouth piece of shit! Nothing matters right now besides punishing the monster that dared to mess with District Seven.

The thing I have noticed is that the mutt is slow to turn around, even when it had all of its legs. It's only common sense for me, then, to get behind it and start striking away as best as I can. I feel aflame, much like the monster, but at the same time... I feel _alive_.

"You shouldn't have done that! You dare to mess with my citizen, you vile fiend?!" I screech out, smashing the axe into it's back over and over. "For that, your execution is nigh!"

It's a miracle that Wood grabbed the napalm jar from the cornucopia, or there is no way this mutt could have been beaten. Least of all by me alone. Even when burning and missing a leg it puts up a vicious fight. The branches swing wildly, leaving me with bruises and tears in my eyes. Only the fact I am behind it and hard for it to aim for keeps me from getting a worse strike.

"It's time for you to face up for your crime! Take this!" I shout, striking the mutt again.

It must be on the ropes now. The fire cannot be good for a mutt made out of wood, and it has taken so much damage. It staggers and moans, no doubt from its life force draining away. I bounce on my heels as I brace myself for whatever it may do next. It's a known fact a dying mutt is a vicious mutt that will go all out to survive. In some ways, the same as a dying tribute.

Calm Nettle, calm. You can do this. Just don't get hit... think of it like ballet; move swift, don't get hit, stay balanced.

A branch comes down and, keeping the images of dancing in mind, I elegantly dart to the side. Yes, it is like dancing. A dance battle, of sorts So long as it cannot hit me, the flames should be able to finish the monster off.

A swing from the right, I dart to the left.

A slash from the left, I twirl to the right.

A low sweep, I leap in the air.

An overhead smash, I do the splits... and scream from the strain.

The mutt looks like it's just about had it by now. It roars, rearing back for what must be it's final attack. No, I shan't give it the chance to even do that. Never!

"Timber!" I yell, imitating the call of the lumberjacks back home as I throw the axe.

I stagger a bit, panting in pure exhaustion as the axe flies through the air. My chest burns, my leg hurts, everything is blurry and I'm ever so past my limit.

That's nothing to the mutt, its screams ceasing as the axe digs deeply into it's face. Silent as the non-monstrous trees back home it falls to the ground with a crash. The ground rumbles from the force, almost making me fall over.

I stagger to the beast, grabbing the axe before the flames can cover it and make it inaccessible for me. Swaying on the spot, I nonetheless find it in me to spit at the felled beast.

"I like you better as firewood," I hiss. "...Wood... Wood!"

I stumble my way over to my fallen ally. Even before I kneel beside him, holding back the tears, I know that he's done for. I feel certain Wood knows it too. After all, he's bleeding badly and... he just got impaled! I can see his innards, the sight almost making me vomit out my own guts. I hold it all down, somehow, and take hold of his hand.

"I should've been faster to warn you," I sob, shaking in grief. "I did this. I..."

"Not you..." he chokes out. "Them..."

The Capitol. The worst, most revolting leaders in the history of humanity. At least, the history I myself am aware of. Ghastly fiends, to do this to children. It's what we are really, deep down, just kids in no way deserving this hell.

"I'll make them pay," I say, the words flowing without me having to think about it. "Don't... don't leave me. Not when we just started to really... get along..."

He barely manages to look at me, he's so far gone.

"You were epic," he says, slurring as his face pales from the lost blood. "Take my stuff... live... survive..."

"Die knowing that I will be the Victor," I vow to him. "It's a promise. I don't break a promise lightly."

"Good..." he says, weakly chuckling. "If you see... my brother... tell him it was my choice, he... he shouldn't fee bad. He'll know... what that means..."

He lays back, his eyes unfocused.

"Hey... Capitol..." he says to the sky. "...Fuck all of you cowardly shits..."

Wood weakly puts up the middle finger, trying to raise it. My heart tightens, but I gently reach over and help him raise arm to flip them off. With a last, near silent chuckle... he goes still. I tremble as I let his arm flop down.

The instant the cannon booms I start to break down. I can't stop myself wailing and crying over my dead ally... dead friend... dead citizen. It's far too much death to deal with. But I can't expect to end up any better if I stay here and cry. I just can't.

I grab up Wood's supplies just as he told me too... not as much as I thought would be in there based off of the weight, but it's better than what I already had. I can't move on yet though, not without the most important thing. Wood's token.

I quickly locate it in his front pocket.

A wooden doll. A small thing, but one certainly made with some talent. I feel the tears forming as I look it over. I soon spot a little inscription on the underside.

- _The Ivydale family. Always together, in person or spirit._ -

I'm already exhausted, miserable and traumatised, but seeing this and how yet another family has been broken apart from these vile Games makes something within me snap. I'm shouting and screaming before I even realise what I am doing, punching a tree as I throw a tantrum.

"You bastards! You sick, sadistic, cowardly, rotten, elitist, witless, loveless, greedy bastards!" I scream, my throat burning. "He was just seventeen! He'd hardly started to live, and now he's dead! **You** did this to him! _**You**_ destroyed a family of real people with real feelings for pointless entertainment! Evil, uncouth bastards! You... you..."

I shake and seethe, but as I take many deep breathes I suddenly start to calm down just a tiny amount. Not much, granted, but enough for a thought to occur to me.

I am insulting the Capitol right to their faces. I just called them out and put them in their place.

 **They won't ignore this**.

I gently cross Wood's arms and give him a final salute.

"Rest easy," I say, fear quickly rising in me. A mutt could come from anywhere any second. The trees could come to life and tear me apart.

I pocket Wood's token and run. I run for my life, far away from here. I've really gone and done it this time. I told the Capitol just what I thought of them... now, I can only pray for luck, or that I can find some terrain to give me the upper hand.

The sound of the hovercraft a distance behind me descending to collect Wood's corpse has me sprinting onwards even faster. My whole body burns, but I can't stop. Not yet. Not when I'm out in the open for any tribute or mutt to kill in any number of terrible ways.

I got myself into this mess. It's entirely my own fault. So... I suppose it's only fitting that I get myself out of it. I just wish I knew how to do that.

When a tree starts to fall, smashing the ground only a bit behind me I can only shiver in dread. I need to think of a plan, _now_.

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

As I sit in a cave, the Anthem begins to blare loudly for all to hear. All those still alive, that is. I can hardly bring myself to watch it after the sort of day that I've been having and exactly who it is going to be up there... but, to hide my face and look away would be the actions of a coward. I'm many things, not all of them good, but a coward is not among them.

I peer out of the cave to look at the sky. Storm clouds are still up there, of course, but at least the rain has stopped again. Right now I'm at a sort of clifftop area upon a steep, grassy slope. The water isn't up to this point yet, though perhaps it'll be just a matter of time. The entrance is fairly hard to see with how it's small and the moss conceals a lot of it. The branches and vines I gathered only add to this concealment.

I sit quietly, staring up at the sky. I feel so lost, honestly. Then again, that's nothing to the lost souls of Cinder and Wood, or how their families must be feeling right now. My gut tightens as Cinder's face is shown in the sky, no hunt of her brains, her tenderness nor the flirty side she once alluded to present in her gaze. She's just a fallen tribute to the powers that be.

Wood's face in the sky makes my heart start to ache. If I'd just been one second faster... just one. I could've saved his life. A mayor's duty is to their people, and I just let one of my people die through a failure to act in time. Perhaps I didn't hesitate this time, true, but I just needed to be faster.

The Anthem ends and everything is silent. Everything except my mind. It all comes back to the same thing in the end; I insulted the Capitol and they'll make me pay for it sooner than later.

I've wondered why they haven't done anything yet, but perhaps part of it is the torment of keeping in a horrible state of anxiety and fear, worrying over when they will act. I'm sure they're getting some satisfaction from seeing me this way. They may act in a minute, an hour, a day... whenever it happens, it won't be pretty. It'll be horrific.

At the very least, Wood had some decent medical supplies. My leg and arm are feeling much better. Not a full recovery by any means, but maybe enough that I will be able to better function tomorrow.

Just five to go...

My rather sombre, perhaps melodramatic, monologue is broken when I hear the sonar of a sponsor. I poke my head out of the cave again, trying to spot where it is.

...

What the hell?!

I can only sit slack-jawed at the sight I am seeing. A sponsor is coming down towards me, this much I already knew, but unlike the norm it's clearly more than a note of more than likely foul words.

It's a _crate_.

Supported by some sort of a balloon system, the crate gently descends towards me. I can only stare at it with wide, bewildered eyes. I rub my eyes, making sure it's not just another hallucination, but no... it's real.

With a gentle thud, the crate comes to a stop beside me and the balloon silently deflates itself. I just stare at it for a few moments.

I break out of my trance, dragging it inside the cave as best as I can. It's not easy, but over the course of fifteen minutes I get the job done and so, sitting back in my 'safe haven' I look over the crate I've been sent. It's a somewhat dark shade of sky blue and seems pretty well put together. I ponder for a moment how I'm even going to get this thing opened up.

Oh, wait. I have an axe. Dumb question...

I notice an envelope taped to the top of the crate. Perhaps this might explain why I have a friggin' _supply drop_ of gear. I open it, bracing for whatever it might say.

- _Nettle_

 _Shortly after you slayed the tree mutt and insulted the Capitol - I don't blame you, but others certainly do, so be alert - your sponsor funding suddenly jumped up by a massive amount. I have no idea where this money came from as the source was listed as anonymous and it was a **lot**. Bit weird if you ask me, but whoever the person was they gave a very specific list of things they wanted to send you. Nobody stopped me, hence the crate you've got with you now. I guess if the Capitol are angry at you, only fair you get to properly prepare yourself, yeah? Johanna is still pissed off, but give her time. You get used to it._

 _Your new (and improved, let us be real here) Mentor_

 _Blight_

 _P.S The following is from your anonymous sponsor._

 _You are doing fine, dear. Keep fighting and doing your home proud. I can't wait to see you home safely, and hold you in my arms. You have this under control, and I am so proud._

I blink, ever so confused by this. I have an admirer? A filthy rich one? How strange... I won't complain, I'm not stupid, but this is certainly very weird. Though, I suppose weirder things have happened in the Hunger Games before now.

I screw up the note and stuff it in my pocket. I can use that in a fire later. For now, let's see what I have. Two strikes of the axe are all it takes to take the top off of the crate and get a look inside. I can't help but sniffle in purest joy when I see what I have all to myself.

"Whoever my sponsor is, _thank you_!" I choke out, smiling.

Look at all of this! Food - _real_ food - like meats, fresh vegetables, fish, bread and the whole works. Several bottles of water. Medical stuff. A blanket! It's hard not to start crying from the hope that wells up inside of me.

Although, there is one issue that ruins the moment a bit. Perhaps more than merely a bit.

The Capitol are still angry at me. Blight confirmed it! Even if I have some great supplies - and let's be honest, they may not last long in the end - it won't stop them from unleashing their worst upon me. If I'm better able to fight, perhaps they'd just send something stronger and much more horrific after me. Only time can tell, and I fear what it may tell me.

It's a comfort, though, that somebody cared about me enough to send me all of this stuff. But, who could it have been? Who wants to hold me in their arms? I'd logically assume it was Ranger, but just as logically... where would he get the money for this? That's way out of his budget. I am sure he's donated some money to help me, but nothing close to this level. He may be six foot eight inches of handsomeness, but he's not made of of Caps.

I guess I'll have to just put it out of my mind for now. I have bigger things to try and figure out right now. Like... what do I do now?

And, what will the Capitol do?

* * *

 **END OF DAY 7...**

* * *

 **REMAINING TRIBUTES**

Marvel (District 1 Male)

Cato (District 2 Male)

Gadget (District 3 Female)

Urchin (District 4 Male)

Nettle (District 7 Female)

Rammy (District 10 Male)

* * *

 **THE FALLEN**

7th- **Wood (District 7 Male)** \- Impaled by a Tree Mutt.

8th- **Cinder (District 5 Female)** \- Struck with an axe, by Nettle.

9th- **Glimmer (District 1 Female)** \- Blown up by landmines, by Gadget.

10th- **Katniss (District 12 Female)** \- Skewered with a spear through the back, by Marvel.

11th- **Lacey (District 8 Female)** \- Shot repeatedly with arrows, by Glimmer.

12th- **Peeta (District 12 Male)** \- Beaten relentlessly, by Cato.

13th- **Rue (District 11 Female)** – Spear thrown into chest, by Wood.

14th- **Clove (District 2 Female)** \- Drowned, by Nettle.

15th- **Weldar (District 3 Female)** \- Asphyxiated with a rope, by Rammy.

16th- **Jason (District 6 Male)** – Slashed several times in the stomach with a scythe, by Cato.

17th- **Sparky (District 5 Male)** – Speared in the gut with a spear and then stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Wood.

18th- **Sickle (District 9 Female)** – Stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Glimmer.

19th- **Thresh (District 11 Male)** – Disembowelled with a machete, by Cato.

20th- **Marina (District 4 Female)** \- Struck in the neck with an axe by Weldar.

21st- **Miller (District 9 Female)** – Knife thrown into back, by Clove.

22nd- **Tamora (District 6 Female)** – Stabbed repeatedly in the gut, by Glimmer.

23rd- **Sable (District 10 Female)** – Stuck in the skull with an axe, by Cato.

24th- **Callico (District 8 Male)** – Stabbed with a kukri, by Marvel.

* * *

 **TRIBUTE NOTES**

 **Cinder:** Per the norm I had a lot of fun writing for her. Smart, very civil and with the underlying 'foxy' attitude, part of me wanted to have her last longer in this incarnation of the 74th Hunger Games. However, increasing her placement in the death order would not have really made as much sense for what I was going for in this story. While Urchin saw Cinder's peaceful side, Gadget saw traces of her flirty side and Sickle hardly saw her, Nettle is the lead who has most notably seen Cinder's smarter and rational side. Helping Nettle through the crocodile infested swamp, thinking fast to get Rammy off of her back and her careful, objective talk in the boat. I feel like things added up to make her a fairly strong support character. Originally she was going to die in the same rank, but it would've been due to a different person and method - more on that after the story is complete. However, as time went by I started to feel in two minds about going the route I was thinking. Changing a few things up in response to some issues that were noted led to the initial idea no longer being feasible anyway, so things naturally progressed to what I believe counts as an accidental murder. Nettle was startled when she was already in a panic and reacted right in the moment. The worst of luck, because as she said, if she'd known it was Cinder she wouldn't have done it. Alas, Cinder has died once again and Nettle certainly feels haunted by her impulsive reaction. Better luck next timeline, fox girl...

 **Wood:** Our first ever time seeing this guy! Hopefully Wood was worth the wait it took for us to finally get introduced to him. Sly, charismatic, manipulative, unfiltered and having no particular reservations about killing in the Arena, I'd say he is certainly among the more stand-out people in the 74th Hunger Games. For some background, like most of the nameless tributes there's little information on him except that his odds are notably good, he favours a spear and that it can be noted he tries to come to Nettle's defence in the canon bloodbath. From all this, it formed the bare bones of a powerful tribute with a fair bit of District loyalty. As for his more wolfish and slightly crazy personality, I just knew I wanted a more deadly tribute who was kind of a loon and let the writing take me where ever it may. I feel very satisfied with the result of his character; comedic, a fighter, a boy of several moods and being perceived as good, bad and both. Alas, that tree mutt wasn't having any of it, clearly. Had Nettle thrown the napalm instead, the same could've happened to her. There's still a lot we do not know about Wood, I can tease that much for whenever he may pop up again in the future. But, one little thing I think I can say... did you know he was somewhat inspired by Agent 9 from Spyro 3? :D

So, who might the mysterious sponsor be? Indeed, what will happen now? Stay tuned!

Oh, and those old mines under the Arena? They will remain there for every single timeline, a constant secret of the Arena that no point of divergence can alter the existence of. Perhaps we'll see them reappear another time...?


	8. Day 8: The Rescue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

 **Note:** Here we are, day eight in the Arena... suffice to say, a chapter that I have been looking forward to writing for quickly apparent reasons, heheheh! Next chapter we'll be at the point where I'll start dropping clues to who the 5th Lead of The Nameless Chronicles shall be, so keep an eye out! Not got a ton to say, except another open question to you all. If you were a tribute and, for whatever reason, the Careers offered you a spot in the pack... would you accept, even if it meant having to partake in possibly sadistic or torturous deeds in exchange for a somewhat better chance to win? Me, I'd say no... I mean, I'm no Career, they'd cut me to ribbons! Anyway, enough from me, let's start~.

* * *

Static is the thing I awaken to. I groan, ever so slightly miffed from being awoken from my slumber. Perhaps 'ever so slightly' is just a polite way of putting moderately upset, but the point remains... I was having a pleasant dream!

Waking myself up I feel fairly dazed from fatigue. Sitting up and letting the blanket fall off of me I glance around to see what's going on.

Entrance to the cave is still covered up, no signs of being disturbed.

My crate of supplies is exactly where I left it and, after fumbling through it for a moment or two, I know for a fact that everything is just as I left is.

Most importantly, I don't have any knives stuck in me. Indeed, all is as it should be. Well, as close to it as can be given this is the Hunger Games and all. Looking my best isn't really feasible in the current situation I find myself in. And yet, still that static goes on. Urrrrgghh, some of us are trying to sleep here! Of all the places to have static ring out over the Arena they pick a forest.

Wait, static doesn't belong in a forest. It's something made by people... ah, of course. How could I forget? It'll be some sort of an announcement. I settle back down, pulling the blanket over me. I can hear it just fine, so I may as well make myself comfortable while I listen.

" **ATTENTION. ATTENTION TRIBUTES**."

Claudius Templesmith, the announce of the Hunger Games. Apparently he once commentated on the Games alone, but around eight years ago he and Caesar started doing it together. Apparently double acts were all the range at the time. Probably a Feast, but just in case it's something else I keep my ears sharp and focused.

" **CONGRATULATIONS TO THE SIX OF YOU FOR SURVIVING TO THE FINAL SIX. IT'S SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF TO STILL BE ALIVE AT THE TOP QUARTER. AS A REWARD FOR YOUR EFFORTS, AND TO BE HOSPITABLE HOSTS IN RESPONSE TO SOME OF YOU LOOKING A BIT... TROUBLED... THERE WILL BE A FEAST HELD AT SUNRISE.** "

I lay back down, closing my eyes as I settle back down to go to sleep. I have this crate of supplies, there is literally no reason for me to bother showing up. If I'm lucky, Cato and Marvel will both go down at the Feast and I'll never have to be in stabbing range of them ever again. Sure is a nice thought, letting somebody else remove them for me.

" **NOW, HOLD ON JUST A MOMENT. SOME OF YOU MAY ALREADY BE REFUSING MY INVITATION, AND WHILE ATTENDANCE IS NOT MANDATORY... SOME OF YOU WOULD CERTAINLY BENENFIT FROM THINKING TWICE ABOUT REFUSING TO COME**."

I glance at my crate and then at a camera in the wall of the cave. I raise my eyebrow and shake my head, ready to get back to sleep.

" **PERHAPS IT MIGHT GARNER SOME INTEREST IF I SHOWED YOU WHAT IS ON OFFER FOR YOU TO CLAIM. IF YOU WOULD ALL DIRECT YOUR ATTENTION TO THE SKY, YOU WILL BE SHOWN VIA A SCREEN WHAT IS UP FOR GRABS. ...THAT MEANS ALL OF YOU**."

I guess I won't be getting any sleep until I play along, will I? I sigh, crawling my way over to the mouth of the cave and move some of the covering to the side. I poke my head out into the chilly night. The rain has stopped, for now, but the water looks like it's risen by a few inches while I was sleeping.

Up in the sky a screen flickers, suddenly visible against the night sky. It shows a grassy bank beside a large marsh of swamp water. The area looks all sorts of foul and disgusting. Ick! I feel sick just looking at that place. The ground is rather bumpy and uneven, with fallen logs and such laying around. Oh, and we can't forget the crocodile in the swamp water can we? Not a place in the Arena I can recall visiting at any point.

Upon the grassy bank about a meter from the water is what I can only describe as a miniature Cornucopia. This one's made out of some sort of dark brown, gnarled wood that's covered in moss. Perhaps a substitute for the real thing, given how it's underwater by now? It's stocked with plenty of supplies, though obviously nowhere near the hoard from the first day at the full-size Cornucopia.

Three waterproof coats hung up on pegs to one side.

A table of fruit, vegetables and meat on the other side.

An open chest of bottles full of crystal clear water.

A rack of swords, spears and a scythe. They gleam under the moonlight, their sharpness made very apparent.

I'm just about ready to get back to sleep and not bother going - it'd be a suicide move - but I suddenly freeze in place, having spotted one more particular 'prize' up for grabs.

The colour drains from my face. I cover my mouth to suppress my scream at what I am seeing, my heart starting to pound while all feeling begins to leave me.

 **RANGER**!

I'd recognise the love of my life anywhere, any time. No matter the length of separation or how his appearance changed I'd just know it was him. And that, unconscious and tied up in rope at the miniature Cornucopia, is him beyond all doubt. The nearly seven feet of pure handsomeness, his wonderful shaggy hair, those muscles, the smile on his face that never goes away even when he slumbers, the metal leg plainly visible... nuts, he's even in a tribute outfit. Though, with it being a purple one it's certainly not an outfit that I have ever seen nor heard of being used in any Hunger Games.

I feel like throwing up. He's laying there at the site of the Feast, knocked out and bound. When somebody gets there... my breath hitches at the thought of Marvel or Cato getting their hands on him. He's there, those sharp blades are barely a meter or two away... I can't stop myself puking.

I did this. I put him there... if not literally, then certainly because of my words! I pissed them off oh so much and now this is the price to be paid. My boyfriend is in the Arena and likely to die at sunset unless...

...

...I'm going.

I'm the only one who can save him from a terrible fate. I just need to be the first one there... run in, untie him as quickly as I can and then we can both get out of there. We can come back here and hide from danger... it occurs to me that if I can pull this off then I can finally be in his arms once more, perhaps as we gently slumber together. Oh, I've missed that _**so much**_...

I grab up everything I'm going to need. Food and water for the journey there and back. Some first aid supplies just in case Ranger needs something or, possibly, I end up needing patching up too. A knife to cut him free from the ropes... good thing Wood's knife was serrated.

I grip my big, sharp axe tightly. It's my most important tool right now. I swallow hard, breathing in and out slowly. I take no pleasure in harming the citizens of other Districts... but I know in my mind and heart I'd always choose Ranger over them. It's easy to pick him over Marvel, Cato and Rammy... and, despite the good times I have had with both and the fact I believe neither deserve this at their age, I'd still pick Ranger over Urchin and Gadget every single time.

With everything ready, I sling on the backpack and exit the cave into the crisp, cool night. That's when I freeze, a thought suddenly striking me.

I have no idea where the Feast is located.

The screen in the sky zooms out the camera, revealing the area of the Feast is blocked off by a thick, circular wall of sharp thorns. That'll stop anybody getting to it before sunrise, but it doesn't give me any clue as to where it is! Nuts...

" **I THINK THAT'S A LONG ENOUGH SHOWING OF THE GOODIES ON OFFER TO CONVINCE YOU TO CHANGE YOUR MINDS. IF YOU DECIDE TO SHOW UP, THE FEAST WILL BE HELD AT THE EDGE OF A SWAMP NEAR A FALLEN GIANT OAK. HOWEVER, SOME AMONG YOU MA Y NOT KNOW WHERE THIS IS. IN THE SPIRIT OF FAIRNESS, THE LOCATION WILL BE SHOWN TO YOU ALL NOW."**

Right on cue a large pillar of light appears, an unmissable beacon around three or four miles from where I am currently located. I'm scrambling down the slope before Claudius is done speaking, unwilling to waste any time at all. I'm armed, I know where to go and Ranger needs me. There's no reason to stall.

I sprint through the forest like a blur, only one mission on my mind. Saving Ranger.

" **GOOD LUCK TRIBUTES. MAY THE ODDS BE** _ **EVER**_ **IN YOUR FAVOUR**!"

I sure hope they will be in both mine and Ranger's favour. I know what this is - I'm hardly what you'd call a fool - and perhaps you may as well. After my rebellious, scandalous words yesterday this is how they intend to make an example of me. Lure me into the bloodbath of the Feast using my lover as bait. No doubt the crate of gear I received caused them to have to use him, as he's the only thing worth more to me than any sorts of supplies. They intend for me to die in the battle ahead.

I won't! I refuse! I always get my way, and what I want right now is to survive! I'm past the age of throwing a temper tantrum; I'll keep myself in this through wits and whatever power lays within me. I can get in and out quickly, they'll see.

A clever plan of theirs, at least on the surface. I either die in my efforts or look like an evil bitch who let her lover die... or, my favourite option, succeed and have Ranger here to keep me sane. Thing is, I highly doubt Ranger came here willingly. I mean, he's tied up!

Grabbing a citizen off of the streets when he was neither reaped nor volunteered... that is certain to cause a lot of unrest. Maybe they don't care at all, but I see flaws in their plan.

Until Ranger and I are safely out of the battle zone, though, such thoughts matter very little. I have my mission and it's one I intend to succeed at no matter the cost.

I pant a little but force myself to go faster. I have to get there first and run in right away, I _have to_.

* * *

 **(Some time passes...)**

* * *

I've been running for so long, stopping to a walk to drink and eat whenever my legs burn too much for me to keep going as fast as I'd like to. It won't be long now until the sun rises over the horizon, surely, but alas... I'm still not there. The thought of being late to the Feast and seeing Ranger laying dead, or even killed at the moment I arrive, has all kinds of horrible feelings churning around inside of me. It's a terrible, sickly feeling.

Thankfully, the beacon of light is much closer than before. Perhaps just a mile away by now, I would estimate. If I can just keep going I should make it... and then, I guess I'll hide in a bush or maybe in a log until it starts. The Careers will be there, no question about it. There's nothing to stop them holding off on charging in for a minute or two if it means killing me while that barrier of thorns remains in place.

I've not seen the other tributes, not yet. I'm thankful for the tranquillity, or as close as this counts to being as such. Such me, myself and I... well, not exactly. There's plenty of birds hooting distantly, wind that blows through and rustles the trees and, of course, some more rain has begun to fall. How lovely...

The crack of a fallen branch gains my attention in a moment. I stand firm, strong as can be, my axe gripped tightly in my hands. I know where that came from.

Somebody is behind that tree.

"Show yourself," I say, firm. "I know you're there, and I'm not foolish enough to turn my back on you or approach you before I know what you've got."

I hesitate for a moment. I sure hope this bluff works.

"I'm not going anywhere," I lie, the Feast very much on my mind. "Either come out, or we'll be staying here for a while and miss the Feast. Suffice to say, I'm probably better equipped than you are."

It takes a few moments, but the figure finally reveals themselves slow and steady. I'd know those wild curls anywhere. It's Urchin, and it's quickly apparent that Gadget is nowhere to be seen. He holds a short sword in one hand, and holds the other to his side with a pained expression.

"Hi Nettle," he says, quietly. "Uh, sorry... didn't mean to startle you."

I lower my weapon in an instant. Of all those who still live Urchin is, at least physically, the least danger to me. Gadget may potentially be weaker, but those landmines hit harder than a sword ever could. I feel it's safe to speak to him... wait, no, it's not! I can't afford to waste time when Ranger lays in peril!

"It's fine," I say, briskly moving on. "Can't talk, I have to move."

I sprint off, but Urchin is very quick to narrow the gap and run alongside me. Smart kid, moving t my left side, the side with my injured shoulder and the hand I am not holding my weapon in. I must say, I think I have underestimated this kid's speed and common sense a tad.

"Hang on, let's go together," he says. "We'd do better working together. Gadget and I got separated by some collapsing ground. It was a big ravine so I don't know where she is and-."

"I'm sorry, but I need to focus," I say, trying to run faster. Effortlessly, he still keeps up with me.

"We're allies," he says, almost firm. "We should help each other. It's not the finale yet. We could grab more stuff if we work together. I need food, you need... water? Well, either way we-."

"Urchin, I frankly care little for water or food right now," I say, trying not to be rude. I pant a little as I run. "Did you see that young man tied up at the miniature Cornucopia?"

"I did. What's up with that?" Asked Urchin, looking so very confused.

"That is my boyfriend. His name is Ranger Temrys and he's in danger... all because of me..." I try to fight the sobs and keep moving, but it proves difficult. "I said things I shouldn't have, and now he's there! He's bait to lure me into a slaughter."

"Oh no..." Urchin shivers, looking horrified. "Taking somebody off of the streets and putting them here? I'm just glad they didn't do that to Ula. She's so young... wait, why are you running in if you expect to, well, die?"

"Because I love him," I say, simply. I can just _feel_ the truth of my statement as the words exit my lips. "Wouldn't you do the same for Ula?"

To this, Urchin nods.

"In a heartbeat," he says, understanding. "...I'll help you get him out of there. I'm scared Nettle, really scared, but... but it's not right to just let some innocent man suffer, right? If we work side by side we can get him and some supplies out of there."

I can't help but beam at Urchin, my smile perhaps glowing like the looming sunset surely will.

"Glad to have you on my side, even this late in the Games," I say with full sincerity. "Let's do this. I think, when it comes to it... I trust you more than the other four and in the finale we'd have a better chance against each other."

"I agree," Urchin says, though I can tell my pragmatic words don't comfort him. "But, Gadget... I, well, I sorta really... uh..."

He turns a little red, a flustered contrast to his freckles.

"I guess I just wish I could've known her outside the Arena," he says, resigned. "She's so nice, and pretty."

I give him a sad smile. I'm not sure what I can really say in response to that. In any case, the beacon of light looks to be about half a mile away from us now. Dawn is arriving and with it so will the sunrise. The Feast looms and while part of me is terrified at the likelihood of my death...

...The other part of me has no regrets for making this choice and will fight to survive long enough to have Ranger back with me after so long.

I'm ready.

* * *

 **(Not much later...)**

* * *

"How much longer?" Urchin mutters, fitful.

"I don't know, but hopefully not more than a few minutes," I whisper in response.

We're reached the beacon of light, or as close as we can get anyway. All that remains now is to wait for the barrier of thorns to lower and make a charge into the battlefield. I hold my axe so tight that my knuckles turn white from the pressure. It's not safe, the Careers are surely closing in by now. In fact, maybe they're already hiding nearby in preparation for the Feast to begin.

Maybe they're watching us now.

Urchin keeps glancing around, no doubt looking for Gadget. If there's anything that'd bring them back to the same location, short of mutts chasing them together for the final battle, it'd be a Feast. Perhaps she'll show up and we can work as one to eliminate the other three? It's a plan of mutual benefit for us younger and, in the case of Urchin and I, shorter tributes.

A naive part of me hopes that nobody except Urchin and I shows up. Maybe Gadget too, but certainly not the other three. Too bad such a thing is ridiculous to even consider. It's gonna be a tough fight, one that's sure to start any minute now.

"If I die," I start to say, looking at Urchin. "I hope you win."

"Thanks," he says, quietly. "Same to you... um... well, besides, uh..."

"It's fine," I assure him. How can I be mad he'd rather have Gadget win over me if he died? It'd be hypocritical. Did I not earlier say I'd choose Ranger over him any day? Exactly, I did.

It must be barely five minutes until sunrise and the minutes truly snail by. It's nail biting, the way each second drags along with my heart pounding to match each one. Maybe... maybe I could use the axe to just chop my way through the thorns? They don't seem poisonous, so maybe it'd be worth a try. Then again, the sounds of chopping could lure the Careers over.

"HEY! Where am I? What's going on?!"

I lightly gasp, my voice trembling and my hands shaking. It's him. It's alive, and awake. Oh, and has no idea what's going on, cannot be forgetting about that.

"Get me out of here!" Ranger yells from beyond the thorns. "...Ok, fine, I'll do it myself. No problem."

A few moments later I hear what sounds almost like a 'zap' of some kind followed by Ranger yelling in pain. I'm just about ready to force my way through the thorns with my bare hands, when suddenly the first rays of the golden sunrise are cast upon the swampy forest. Almost like some kind of forest magic from the fairy tales I read as a little girl the thorns begin to suddenly wither away, shrinking down into the ground. My chest tightens as they start to get lower.

There he is...

Ranger lays on his front at the mouth of the miniature Cornucopia, struggling to get free of the ropes. Every few moments he yells in pain, that same zap sound unmissable.

I don't even wait for the thorns to lower all the way. I sprint forwards, a russet brown blur in the sunrise, and leap right over the remaining thorns.

"Ranger!" I shout, quickly narrowing the gap between us. "I'm coming! Hold on!"

He looks up in an instant, his eyes meeting mine. I believe the words he must be thinking right now could only be 'what the fuck' but I hardly care for the crudeness of such a phrase. He's there! He's alive!

"Nettle!?" he gasps, mixed in delight and confusion. "Wait... aw nuts, am I in the _**Arena**_?!"

"Long story, will explain when we're out of here," I stammer, dashing over to him ."Hold still."

It must be the most bizarre situation Ranger has ever woken up to. Nothing could compare. I just hope his confusion won't stop him from running alongside me right out of this place. Thankfully, he obeys my order, his stillness making it easy to cut him free of his bindings. He sits up in an instant, taking me into his arms in a desperate, tight hug. It proves to be impossible for me to resist returning his embrace.

"I've been so worried," he whispers, shaking.

"I was scared I'd never see you again," I say, sniffling.

That's when the sound of fast footsteps makes us look up, as we're distinctly not alone. Urchin is running up at quite a speed, no doubt wanting to get his own supplies before we flee together. Now, if it were just him I'd not be remotely bothered.

But, alas, it's not just him!

The Careers are getting close. Marvel from one side and Cato from the other. Both show signs of pain in their expressions, perhaps from hunger given their lack of visible wounds, but that doesn't take any of the ferocity from their malevolent grins. Cato grips his sword tightly while Marvel holds his spear tighter still.

"We've gotta go!" Urchin says as he stuffs handfuls of various foods into his bag.

Ranger acts quickly, reaching for a sword. He yells in pan, the zap once again sounding and leaving him stumbling. Marvel and Cato seem rather confused that there is a new person in the Arena, but that confusion passes swiftly. Only bloodlust in in their eyes.

"You're not getting away this time," Marvel says, his eyes narrowed.

Ranger may be unable to pick up the weapons for some reason, but nothing is stopping me. I grab up one of the spears and toss it right at Marvel. He quickly leaps to the side, more amused than anything.

"Your technique is hardly passable," he jeers. "You need more _thrust_ in your throw."

Urchin turns to make a run for it, the exact thing Ranger and I need to do as well. I hate to say it though, but we're getting boxed in. Nuts, nuts, nuts, _**shit**_!

I grip my axe very tightly, more than ready to fight for my life. I won't hesitate to spill their blood. I can't hesitate, not again. I won't get lucky a second time.

"Get the kid, Marvel!" Cato barks, his sword grips tightly. "She's _mine_."

"Save some for me!" Marvel says, turning to chase after Urchin.

One Career is better than two when it comes to the odds of my living another day, or hour, but it just _had_ to be the biggest and strongest who I'm up against didn't it? Cato looks at me, gives Ranger a short glance, and then looks back to me.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this," he says, coldly. "Destroying our supplies? Leaving his fucking starving for a few days? Oh, you're _dead_ Seven."

"Perhaps you should have actually paid attention at the survival skills training stations," I reply, trying so hard to not show too much fear.

He just scowls, his face turning a darker shade of red, one to match his jacket.

"I'll chop off all your limbs," he says as he steps closer.

Ranger steps forwards, a firm look on his face. He balls his fists, nothing but fury on his face.

"Hey, tree fucker! That's my girlfriend you're talking to," Ranger says, coolly. "You know, you look pretty weak down there, little boy. Mind speaking up?"

"Ranger!" I squeak out. As much as I love him standing up for me, this isn't the time to provoke Cato.

Cato has enough, charging forwards. I swing my axe to meet his sword, the clang echoing. If anything, he seems pleased I'm putting up a fight.

"That's it, keep fighting. In District Two we like a challenge, even if it's just a small one," he says, swinging the sword again.

Ranger tries to grab a spear but, again, there is a zap and he staggers against the inner walls of the miniature Cornucopia. If it were two on one Cato would surely be burnt toast by now. As if it would be so easy. It all rests on me to kick his ass!

"Getting tired?" he asks, easily parrying all of my attacks. "I'll admit, I didn't expect you to last this long-."

A short scream cuts him off as does the laughter of Marvel, gaining his attention, though not enough for me to land a hit. I can only glance beyond him for a nanosecond but it tells me all I need to know.

I hold down the vomit, just barely.

Urchin lays crumpled on the ground, blood pooling out from around his throat out onto the grass, staining it red. Marvel casually pockets a knife - a kukri, I believe it's called - and grabs his fallen appear back up, satisfied.

I'm paralysed with horror for a moment, the only amount of time Cato needs. Right as Ranger gets up and a shrill scream echoes through the clearing, calling Urchin's name, I find myself hit to the ground. Cato must have gotten tired of using his sword, because it seems he felt it'd be better to use his fist.

Aaaaahhh, the pain...

"That it?" he asks, scoffing as he raises his sword.

"Hardly!" I choke out, grabbing the nearest object and throwing it at his face.

Cato cries out for a moment. Turns out the object I grabbed was a large turnip that had fallen from the table of food. A turnip of good size and weight that just stuck Cato in the face, hard enough for a dribble of blood to exit his nose.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now," he says deadly calm.

He brings his sword down as I raise up the axe to meet it. Cato's hate filled eyes meet my own eyes, surely burning with determination. My arms are aflame trying to hold him back... nggggghhhh... he's too strong...

Ranger tries and fails to help again. It's as if every time he tries to interfere he... he gets zapped... oh. I think I just worked out what's going on with him. Not that it'll do me any good knowing that if I die right now.

An explosion echoes through the hair, breaking Cato's focus. Gadget! She and her landmines are here.. if she throws it we're all dead! Nuts!

"Piss off!" I bark out taking a swing at Cato.

He dodges, only just and this gives me the time to get up. I pull Ranger up as best as I can, but Cato is already back at it and again I find myself trying to block him. A distance away I can see Marvel in a state of actual fear - oh, how very satisfying it is to see this! - as he tries to dodge the next land mine Gadget throws from her safer spot behind a large boulder at the edge of the clearing.

The explosion echoes again, louder than before. I was ready for it but Cato wasn't. I don't manage to hit him with the axe but I do succeed in kicking him in the knee and rushing past, leading Ranger by the hand.

"C'mon!" I yell, my breathing deep and raspy. "Gogogogo!"

"You're the boss!" he says, eager to agree.

"Not so fast!" Cato says, his words as icy as any of the Tundra Arenas of years gone by.

In a swift moment my grip on Ranger is gone and turning back on my heel I see Cato has him in a choke-hold. The Career is having to put a serious effort in keeping Ranger restrained, but is succeeding for now.

"One wrong move and his neck is getting broken," he hisses.

I breath fast and light, panic surging through me. The horrible thoughts of Ranger laying dead, cut up by a Career are at the front of my mind. What do I do?!

A distance away I spot somebody else has finally arrived at the Feast. Rammy barrels into the clearing right past Marvel and Gadget and is making a beeline towards us. ..Is it just me or is he charging straight at Cato?

Only one card I can play; distract Cato and break his focus.

"Guess what Cato?" I say, my axe held tight. "I killed Clove. I smashed her into debris and drowned her. Oh you should've seen the way she cried!"

Cato roars in fury, throwing Ranger to the side and lunging at me. I scream in purest pain as he punches me across the face. My vision flashes, going white for a moment as my nose cracks. It's either broken or very close to it. I punch him in return, a move he easily blocks.

"Nobody, and I mean _**nobody**_ , says those things about Clove," he hisses.

"I just did!" I yell. Come on, any second now would be nice!

Cato snarls and grabs his sword up. A second later his scream fills the air as blood showers from his right arm. In a moment I find myself able to move again, Rammy having finally narrowed the gap. I waste no time grabbing up my axe and quickly moving over to Ranger's aid. As I help him him up, rapid-fire mumbling comforting words that I can't even keep track of I glance over at Rammy and Cato's duel.

The colour leaves my face as I swear. Calling it a duel would be a farce as a duel implies two participates. Instead Rammy has taken Cato totally off of his guard and besides the nasty, deep cut to his right arm... oh nuts...

Cato screams and shouts in agony, Rammy swiftly breaking his arms and legs, pinching him for every shout he makes.

"Feel that?" Rammy asks him, his voice only able to be described as deadly. "That's the pain you get when you kill Sable, you swine!"

" _ **AAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH**_!" Cato shrieks, his voice warping from the agony. "Marvel, help! ARRRGGHH! You crazy bastard!"

Rammy locks eyes with me and for a moment I worry I am his next target. I grip my axe, as if daring him.

"I have business with this one," he says, firm. "If you and your... associate leave now, I won't try anything."

That's all the invitation I need and so I find myself dashing out of the clearing as fats as my legs can carry me, Ranger running beside me. Glancing back I see Rammy quickly grab a bunch of supplies and return to Cato. He's quick to grab him by one of his legs and start dragging him off into the forest.

Nothing but the worst sorts of pain await Cato once the powerful, cold boy from Ten really gets his hands on him. I flinch, feeling suddenly awful for Cato. But there's nothing I can do now, not when Rammy is armed nor when I have to get myself and Ranger out of here.

"Nettle, to your left!" Ranger warns me.

I turn, seeing Marvel glancing quickly between his ally being dragged off and towards us. He's made his choice abandoning Cato to his fate and running after us. I suppose with Cato being so utterly broken already it's pragmatic for Marvel to just cut his losses and move on.

"Where you going?" he calls to us. "The party can't start until you're both seated at the table!"

"Don't give him any response or attention, just run!" I order, pulling Ranger along as fast as possible. Thankfully, Ranger obeys and quickly picks up speed to run along swiftly beside me.

"You can't flee that easily!" Marvel calls.

By now, I know how a spear works and how well Marvel can throw them. I see this with the death of Katniss. But the thing with spears, they are thrown in a straight line. The instant I hear the swish of it flying through the air I pull Ranger to the side with me. Sure enough, it pins into the ground.

Glancing back just to be sure he does not have another I flinch. Marvel is pissed and has the bloodied kukri in his hand. But further back, Gadget has grabbed what she needs and... oh mercy me, she's set down some land mines next to everything still there.

"I'm faster then you! Prepare for marvellous pain!" he snarls, getting close.

The explosions fill the air, my ears throbbing from the horribly loud noise. It's no reason to turn back though, not when this deadly Feast is so close to being over and escaped from.

Marvel shouts, a delightful mixture between furious and horrified. No doubt he's just realised all the supplies on offer at the Feast got destroyed... and he didn't get a single thing. Looks like my most formidable of foes is gonna have to deal with being hungry for a few more days.

"This isn't over! You'll have to face off against me one way or the other in the end," he calls after me, turning back to run the other way. I suppose salvaging some supplies, any supplies, is of greater importance to him than my death. I have no issues with that. "See you soon."

That last sentence sends a chill up my spine, but not one that takes my focus away from running out of the area. The sooner I'm back at base with my supply crate, the better. Only then can I truly say that Ranger and I will be safe, for a while.

Despite the sadness of Urchin's quick, oh so pointless death and the distant screams of Cato being dragged to his doom that I can still hear... being with Ranger after so long gives me a wonderful feeling that wells up inside me.

Hope.

* * *

 **(A while later...)**

* * *

By the time Ranger and I finally come to a stop we're both panting and sweating a lot. I drop to me knees, wheezing deeply. Ranger staggers to a tree, leaning against it and coughs up some spittle between his own gasps. For some time, it's just the two of us trying to catch our breathes back.

...Just the two of us...

"I'm glad to see you again," Ranger says, after a while. "Though... this is not exactly the reunion I'd expected. I was thinking moreso you'd step off of the train as a Victor and I'd run up to you and pull you into a hug. We'd probably cry in relief and then, well, probably-."

I silence him by throwing myself at him, my lips to his own. In a moment I'm held tightly, but in a way that only makes me feel safe and loved. Neither of us pause for air for a few long seconds, just enjoying our first kiss in over a week. Much better than the last one we had right after I was reaped and neither of us knew it it was to be our last or not.

We pull apart, our faces red as Ranger sets me back down on my feet. He chuckles, I giggle and soon we're both laughing like a pair of fools in love. Maybe because that's exactly what we are.

"How can I help you?" Ranger asks quickly. "Is there anything, and I mean _**anything**_ , I can do to make sure you get out of this place alive?"

"Right now, at this very moment, just being here with me is a good enough help," I yell him, taking out two bottles of water from my backpack and passing one to him. "Here."

We drink the water quickly. It's hard to ration it when we're so thirsty, but thankfully I have two more bottles in my backpack anyway and plenty more back at my cave, safely tucked in the crate.

A cannon booms, making us both freeze. Some time passes before out heart rates slow down and we turn towards each other.

"Urchin, right?" Ranger says, solemn.

"Yeah... so young," I say, looking at my feet. "Cato's gonna die soon enough. You saw what Rammy did to him right?"

"Aye. Cato's gonna be wanting to die at this point, but I doubt he's gonna be so lucky," Ranger says, grimacing. "Hate to say it, but it looks like his fate has just increased your odds."

"Mmhhmm... it's strange. I should hate the bastard for all the pain and suffering he has caused to people, both in here and back at the training centre, but after seeing his limbs get broken and then him getting dragged off to his doom... I just feel so awful for him," I say, deeply sighing as I draw up my knees. "Nobody deserves the pain he's in for."

"I might be biased, but I'd say that's proof enough you're a good person. Takes a strong heart to care about somebody who was happy to murder you less than an hour ago," Ranger says, sitting beside me and holding me close to him. I sink into the hug ever so quickly. "You'll make a fine Victor."

"You really think I can win this thing?" I ask him, softly.

"I don't see why not," he says, sincere. "Marvel's starving, Rammy's taken some bad wounds and Gadget doesn't have many landmines left. I think you have a good chance and I'll help you as best as I can."

"Thanks," I say, nuzzling his shoulder. "But, _can_ you help though? You kept getting zapped back there when you tried to fight or free yourself. What's up with that?"

"...I'm not sure," Ranger says. "Actually, there's one other thing I'm hoping you know the answer to. Just... something that's been bugging me."

"What is it?" I reply.

"What am I doing here!?" he yells, startling me. "Sorry... I'm not mad at you. It's just, _what is going on_? All I remember is walking home from an evening work shift and suddenly I... I think I was struck in the back of my head? Next thing I know, I'm at that small Cornucopia and you're running over to me. This is... it's insane. Nettle, what's going on?"

I put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight.

"Please, try to remain calm," I say, gulping. "A big thing to ask in this place, I know, but... it's my fault." My fault that you could have _died_."

I wipe away a tear that cascades down my cheek, trying to find the words.

"You saw how Wood died, correct?" I ask him.

"Every second," he says, closing his eyes. "He didn't deserve that. His family... his brother was sobbing for hours. His mother fainted and last I heard before, well, this... she was still unconscious. It's easy to figure she'll be screaming when she's awake. ...Why do you ask?"

"Well, did the show me losing my temper?" I ask, slowly.

"They showed you starting to get angry an then quickly cut to show Gadget and Urchin fleeing a crocodile. Why, something bad happen?" he asks, starting to turn from confused to serious.

"...I called them out," I whisper. "I told them how evil they were, to do all of this. They, the Capitol, I called them... I don't know, come combination of cowards, tyrants and wretched human beings. I just got so, so furious seeing one of my citizens killed in front of me! I lost control... they must have grabbed you and put you at the Feast to punish me... to draw me in so I'd get killed. I'm sorry Ranger."

It's both to my surprise and delight that he just holds me closer to him.

"Hard for me to get angry at you for telling them what everybody thinks," he whispers. "We both got out of there, so... no harm done, right? And..."

He pauses, looking me in the eyes.

"You ran into the fray, knowing it was a trap to get you killed?" he asks, awed. "Why?"

"Because I love you. It was all the reason I needed," I say, my hand gently rubbing his organic leg.

We'd don't speak for a while, or even kiss. We just... sit, together. For now at least, just being in each other's company is enough. After the kind of week I've just had, having my lover right beside me on the eighth day of this hell is just what I needed. Then again, perhaps it's a little wrong to feel glad Ranger is now stuck in the Arena with me.

Wait... nuts... my blood runs cold as a horrible thought enters my head.

"Ranger, do you count as a tribute?" I ask, seriously. "Does... does one of us have to die so the other can go home?"

He grimaces, horror in his eyes. I can see his mind racing, no doubt going at a mile per moment as he considers this.

"Would they really add a third tribute from a random District this late into the Games?" he asks, uncertain. "Quell isn't 'til next year. ...Logically I doubt it, but just in case I do... here's the plan. If were the last two we tie ourselves together. So close that they cannot do anything to us without getting the other; I don't think they'd want to be short a Victor, right?"

When Ranger puts it that way, it does make sense. A Hunger Games without a Victor would make the system collapse. It's never happened and any time it's come close to being true, well, father says he always got the impression the powers-that-be started to feel a bit scared. Hmmmm... quite interesting.

"Indeed not. Good plan," I say, flopping down upon my back. "But, this has never happened before. I mean, unless you count the two girls in those two Games who were..."

"...Yeah..." Ranger looks sick at the thought. In those two cases, in the most disgustingly technical of terms, there was an extra tribute per Games. "This is a tribute outfit... and whoa, it occurs to me that I've been stripped and redressed. They saw me naked."

"They better not be stepping in on my claim!" I say, huffing. We both laugh in spite of the terrible situation. "I saw you first."

"Clearly, I was the best prize on offer at the Feast," he says, chuckling. "So, what do we do now? There's four left... well, five but it's pretty clear by now that Cato is done for."

"We head back to my base, that's what," I say, rising up. "I have a big crate of supplies I got sponsored last night."

"Somebody out there must really like you," Ranger says, following me. "I would've sent that stuff, but I don't have that kind of money. Any idea who did send it?"

"Honestly... none whatsoever," I say, shrugging.

"Well, maybe your dad did? He's rich," Ranger points out. "He also, you know, is your dad so it's kind of obvious he'd want you back alive. I know you're both distant, but he does love you."

"I was wondering that too, but there's one issue with that theory," I say, pausing to glance around us. I swear a twig snapped, or am I just going crazy? "Father may be rich, but at the time it was a week into the Games and only six were left. That, and I'd hardly gotten any sponsor founding, if any. It is more money than he could possibly have to give away to send _that_ much stuff at once. It can't have been father as his money cannot cover it."

"Hmmmm..." Ranger taps his chin, thoughtful. "I guess it'd be a rich Capitol sponsor then. That's all I can think of."

"Probably. I just find it odd... why sponsor me when Marvel and, at that time, Cato were much more likely prospects to be the Victor?" I ask, shrugging. "Not that I mind, of course."

"I guess we'll only find out once we get out of here," Ranger says, putting his hands into his pocket. "Hm?"

He takes an envelope out from his pocket, opening it up. Speedily reading it, he then passes it over to me for a look.

"I think you'll love and hate this, but maybe more love than hate," he says.

I read over the letter fast. I have to say, Ranger has me curious as to what it says.

 _-To whomever it may concern_

 _If you are reading this, congratulations for surviving the Feast! Among the prizes you have won is the boy who came with this letter. His name is Ranger and he is a citizen of District Seven. He is here as a way to add more excitement and intrigue to the last few days of the Games. **He is not a tribute**. If you and Ranger are the only two left alive in the Arena then you will still be the Victor. There is no benefit to be gained from attacking Ranger, as he is not permitted to interfere with the outcome of the games besides mentioning where he thinks tributes or locations are. If he were to try, a tracker inside him would give him a painful electric shock. Do with him as you wish, tribute._

 _Good luck, and may the odds be **ever** in your favour!_

I let out a deep, choked sigh. I'm practically sobbing in relief. Ranger's plan had merit, but I'm just so very glad it won't be needed now. We can both go home! All we have to do is... live longer than Rammy, Gadget and, worst of them all, Marvel. That, or kill them to make the whole thing go faster.

Though, it looks like it'll be all up to me to get us out of here. If Ranger cannot fight or really do much besides tell me a few things - and who's to say he'll be correct? - then it seems I'm gonna be playing for the Victory of two people now. I can't help frowning over the fact I can't benefit from Ranger's toughness backing me up, though privately I find the irony of the tiny girl protecting the huge guy somewhat amusing.

Really, though, the wording of this letter annoys me above all else. It hardly treats Ranger like a real person! More like a prop, if even that much. The nerve...

"Looks like I won't be able to help you as much as I'd like," Ranger says, shamefaced. "Sorry Netty."

"It's alright. Honestly, this isn't really that bad of a 'deal' when you think about it. You'll keep me feeling cheerful and stop me from getting lonely. I have supplies for us both to live off of. Tributes have done more with far less," I assure him, curling my fingers around his. "Just let me know if you see something, or somebody, and I'll handle things from there."

"Sounds like a plan," Ranger says, holding my hand with a tightness I love oh so much. "You know, after a week or so in the Arena, you look-."

"Hideous? A sorry sight?" I ask, knowingly. "Can't say I disagree. Between the stings, the punches, the lack of any sort of a bath..."

"Actually, I was gonna say you're as beautiful as the day you got reaped," he says. One look and I know he's being honest. Awwwww...

"You're so nice," I whisper.

"That a problem?" he teases. "I always did think you liked nice guys."

"You thought correctly," I say, giggling. "I'd love to keep on doing this, just us talking and laughing over anything. But... until we're out of this place, we've got to focus. One wrong move and I could be dead. Honestly, you could be as well."

"Think they'd attack me if I'm not a tribute?" he asks me.

"I'd like to think not, but they don't know you're not a tribute," I say, quickly making us veer the long way around a large pool of water. I _see_ that crocodile and I shan't give it the chance to cause trouble! "And, would a mutt know the difference between it's prey and somebody off-limits? I fee doubtful of this."

"I'll be careful," Ranger assures me. "How far until your cave? I got knocked out before I could get back home and see where you'd set up camp for the night."

"Maybe an hour of running from here. But, there's only three others left and not only did a death happen, but some torture is going on. I think we'll be safe to take it slow... why waste time on us when plenty is going on?" I ask him, my expression grim.

"Why indeed," he says, slowly. "Alright, lead the way."

And so, I do. But I make sure to press my knife into his hand after a few minutes of walking along. Nothing happens, perhaps because I did it and Ranger didn't try to grab it himself? Interesting fact to know.

"I can't attack the others," he reminds me.

" _They_ don't know that," I say, narrowing my eyes with a small smirk. "Even Marvel may hesitate if we're both armed and side by side."

"...I like the way you think," Ranger says, his expression matching my own.

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

It took longer than I would have liked for us to make it back to my cave. By the time we got back, the sun had already gotten quite low in in the sky. I suppose it couldn't be helped, what with how I suggested we walk to conserve some energy... and the fact more of the Arena flooded. It truly was taxing to take the long way around, but at least there was no dangers like broken ground or crocodiles. Just a long walk that left us feeling tired.

The thick clouds have really covered the sky outside, now much thicker than before. Most of the sunlight has been blocked off now that another downpour has begun. It's a wonder that none of us have caught hypothermia at any point in the Games.

At least, snuggled beside Ranger under the blanket, I know that hypothermia is one thing I have no reason to fear for tonight. Maybe I'll even get a decent night of sleep for once.

We've been silent for a while, listening to the rain. I lay upon Ranger, my head against his chest as I lightly doze. This is just what I needed. The most wonderful prize from any Feast in the history of the Hunger Games. I feel a tad awkward calling Ranger a prize, but... oh, you know what I mean.

Having shelter and company, I'd call the storm outside relaxing to listen to. Oh, it's certainly still fearsome, but right now I don't fear it. Not as I would if I were alone and terrified. Double the company means half the fear, I guess, or something like that. It would be nice, though, if the rain could distract me from the painful bruises on my face of the bloodiness of my nose. My first aid supplies helped, but it wasn't a complete fix.

It's not just that which keeps me from being truly at ease though. I mean, besides the fact I am still in the Arena. No, it's one particular something... or, more specifically, the lack of it.

Cato's cannon has not fired. It hass been hours since Rammy broke his limbs and dragged him off into the woods. Not only am I sore, but I feel sick at the thought of what Rammy is putting him through. Is it torture? Or is he doing nothing and just letting Cato bleed out in a ditch somewhere? I suppose I'll find out at the recap if I can get out of here. I'm truly not looking forward to sitting through it...

"How can I help?" Ranger asks, holding my closer.

"Just keep holding me," I reply. "It helps."

We're silent again for a time, just quietly snuggling. But, it's not like we can do this forever. I'm sure the Capitol likes seeing us being like this - they went ever so gaga over Peeta's false confession about Katniss after all - but cuddles aren't what will get me out of this Arena. Only plans and actions will. Though, I guess right now there's not exactly much that we can do, is there?

"...How's home been?" I ask after a while. "Is Seven doing alright?"

"As well as can be expected during Games season," Ranger says. "The ever present fear of losing our tributes, the quotas and prices of everything raised up, the occasional accidents in the forests or lumber yards... normal stuff. Though, a lot of the citizens were happy that both you and Wood were still alive at the top seven. People called it a good omen."

"Things have been working out well for me, I guess. I'm still alive at least," I mumble, snuggling closer. "What's the manor been like?"

"Work is the same, on paper. But... it's different, the fact you were not there hanging over us... hanging over me. It's been hard to focus and people say your dad has been falling behind on his own work. I don't know what else they expected, really, but it's like a whole wave of anxiety going on," Ranger says, starting to gently stroke my hair. "I've hardly slept lately, I've been too scared that something would happen to you and I... I don't know. I just wanted to be here with you whatever happened. Heh... guess I got my wish after all."

"Father really is that worried? Nothing keeps him from his work," I whisper, awed.

"Nothing except you," he says, stretching for a moment. He yawns, sounding exhausted.

"How much sleep have you even had since the Games began?" I ask him, worried. Too little sleep can be, for lack of a better term in my exhausted mind, crappy.

"A few hours, maybe?" he says, shrugging. "It doesn't really matter, not now. ...We're together again."

"Yeah," I agree, nuzzling him. "But, I need you well rested if we're gonna stand the best chance possible. Sleepy tributes and uh, 'pseudo-tributes' like you... they die faster."

"Guess we'll just have to get the others to die quicker," Ranger says, frowning to himself. "But... Gadget, she's just a kid really. We really gonna, well..."

"You can't. I'd have to do it. Honestly I am hoping Rammy and Marvel do it for me, but between my own life and getting us out of here together, then I know what my choice is gonna be," I say to him, shivering at the thought of killing a young girl. "Tell me something else, something happy about home. Something about what we're going back to."

"Well, you've got some admirers," Ranger says, chuckling.

"You jealous?" I tease.

"They wish," he snickers. "But really, people admire you. They're finally seeing you the way I've always seen you. No longer the 'lazy mayor's daughter', but rather an 'elegant valkyrie'. Paying respect to Wood certainly helped, and the way you've owned up to mistakes and shown some care for the others... it's touched the hearts of people. They're all rooting for you."

"I won't let them down," I say, moving myself so that I'm looking Ranger in the eyes. "This is Seven's year. Maybe when we get home I could hold a ball of sorts for the locals near the manor? A thank you to all who were cheering me on, through the good and bad. Mostly bad, to be honest."

"So long as I can have a dance with you, I'll support it," Ranger says.

"You're getting three at least," I say, leaving no room for negotiation on this. "Maybe we could invite Blight. He's taken over as Mentor."

"Works for me. Honestly, fuck Johanna with a branch. Like, seriously. she just gave up on you and never even tried? Uh, she does realise there have been much more unlikely Victor's, right? Weed, Sheepy, Spud? I swear, if I see her..." he trails off, trying to keep his temper controlled. "...Sorry."

"It's ok. Besides, I claim the first crack at her," I say, a tad snooty. "But that's then, this is now. I think that-."

I'm cut off as a cannon booms, loud and unmissable over the downpour outside. The cave is silent of all noise besides Ranger and I breathing for over a minute.

"Cato," Ranger says, simply. His breath shakes a bit.

"Yeah," I mumble. "Three to go."

I hide my face against Ranger's shoulder, tears in my eyes at the thought of the brute from Two being tortured to death. There are some things nobody deserves. Part of me wants to hate the nasty boy, wants to smirk over hos volunteering for this hell went so wrong for him... I can't. It's just sick, no two ways about it.

"Tell me more about home," I ask him, softly. "Anything to make me think of something but... that."

"Just picture this; the two of us walking hand in hand in the forest as the sun sets. With no tributes, traps or mutts to worry about we'd just talk and sit on a hilltop, watching the sun go down," he tells me, sounding longing.

"Oh, I'd love that so much," I say, sighing contently. "That's certainly something to fight for. Speaking of which, the plan."

I adjust my stance so that I'm sitting on my knees in front of Ranger as he lays back. He sits up too, ready to listen.

"So, what're we doing tomorrow?" he asks me.

"We head for high ground. That downpour is gonna make the damn flood get even worse; there's a grassy mountain sort of area beyond here that will be the last place to get swallowed up. It's where the other three will be going so we'd better do the same. I have a sneaky suspicion that if anybody dilly dallies in getting there then the Gamemakers will unleash the crocodiles," I shiver at the mere thought of those terrible, scary beasts.

"They can't get us if we stay away from the water, right?" Ranger says, his eyes narrowed.

"It won't be long until we'll have no choice but to stay near the water at all times," I point out. I shudder at the idea of this, having no more space to flee from danger. Well, I didn't make it eight days into this mess by not being able to fight. "We move out at sunrise."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Ranger says, thoughtful. "Think we could build a boat? You wanted to do that a few days ago, right? Being grabbed by the Careers kinda put the plan on hold, huh?"

"I would build one, but with what?" is my response to Ranger. I sigh. "We'll just have to go on foot and do our best."

"At least we have the upper hand in the water, right? All those long afternoons spent at your pool, not like we can't swim," he says, trying to keep positive.

"True, but if a crocodile gets its jaws on either of us then it's not gonna matter much," I say, moving back to lay myself against him. "They're horrid creatures."

"...Marvel is the toughest one left, right?" Ranger asks me, slowly.

"Yeah?" I say, raising an eyebrow at the light non-sequitur. "Why?"

"If you cannot beat him in a fair fight, maybe you could feed him to a crocodile?" he suggests. "Horrible, but... you or him, and you might as well do what you can to not die. He has a lifetime of training, you use a crocodile against him... in essence, you're just evening the odds."

Ranger doesn't seem happy to be saying such things, and honestly I don't blame him. Not like I'm enjoying it any better. But, it's a plan with merit. If I can't get the chance to put the nightlock in what little food he may have left, then perhaps luring him in range of a hungry crocodile will do the trick. It's been done before, using a Mutt to take out a nasty foe you cannot otherwise defeat.

Then again, I've been doing pretty well for myself. Maybe I won't need to use a crocodile when I've got a big axe that I'm fairly handy with?

I try not to think about it as I settle down against Ranger for a nap. Sleep might clear my head.

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

Ranger and I sit at the front of the cave, looking out into the rainy night. Sure enough, it's clear to see that the water level has risen up once again. I am sure that I heard a distant cracking sound, no doubt more of the Arena falling apart. No cannon came from this, but it's certainly going to cause plenty of issues tomorrow if the path to the finale is broken. I guess Seneca didn't learn his lesson. But, if it keeps ratings high, who cares? I'd assume that to be how he sees it.

"How long 'til the Anthem?" Ranger asks.

"Not long now, most likely," I reply. "Once it's over we can get some sleep. We're gonna need it Ranger, big day tomorrow. I won't lie, it's going to be horrible. It's almost the end now; finales of any Hunger Games are a gory death-match. It could be our final night together."

"I guess we might as well enjoy our time together then," Ranger says, an arm around me.

"Too bad we don't have any privacy from the world, huh?" I say, a look of ever so slight mischief in my eyes. If not for the hundreds of thousands of viewers, I'd make it particularly memorable. "Not exactly paradise, sleeping in a cave, but I guess anywhere we can just be together... it could be paradise in some ways. If it's my final night, I'm glad I'm able to spend it with you."

"It's not your final night," he promises me, serious. "I won't let them get anywhere near you, even if I have to fight while being fried by the tracker to ensure it."

I kiss him on the cheek, smiling.

"You're so much more than I deserve, you know that?" I ask him. Who knew a murderer could end up with somebody so... so _him_ , you know?

We look up to the sky as the Anthem begins to play. After the Capitol Seal is shown for all to see I feel my gut tighten as Cato's face is shown in the sky. A brute of a boy, one ever so strong and who made clear in the training centre he was going to make a mess of all of us. In the end, seems he got left as the biggest mess. I try not to think about his fate, silently hoping he's in a better place now.

A tear falls down my face, and then a few more after that. Urchin's face is shown off in the sky, his curls gracing Panem one last time. He was such a nice boy, full of heart. He didn't deserve what happened to him. I wonder how Gadget feels now as she watches the Anthem, wherever she is. They were close, after all.

The Anthem comes to an end and the night becomes mostly silent. Mostly, as the downpour is getting a bit louder. At least the odds of it flooding into the cave are incredibly remote.

Ranger and I move back into the cave, getting under the blanket once more. I can't help but glance at the crate, wishing I could take the whole thing with me. Hopefully I can carry all of the precious supplies inside. Then again, I only have so much space and strength to lift stuff.

"Wondering what to take with you?" Ranger asks me.

"Yep," I say. "I don't want to leave anything behind; it could all be vital to my survival."

"Well, I have pockets. I could carry some of it," Ranger suggests, smiling. "Just call me your butler, right?"

I can't help but snicker, Ranger soon joining in. We lay peacefully together in each other's arms. The night suddenly feels so much warmer and pleasant.

"You're smiling," he notes.

"I guess with you here by my side in this nightmare... I feel lucky," I whisper, kissing his cheek. "Like a lucky Seven, as it were."

As we settle down, drifting off to dreamland, I think to myself of what might await us back home once I get out of here. Reconnect with father, gain some local respect, maybe take things further with Ranger... yeah... it's a lovely thought.

I just hope that the last three tributes I have to face won't leave me dead in the dirt, a pool of blood cascading from me. I can't get Marvel's expression when he killed Urchin out of my mind. He's gonna be coming for me, very soon.

It's just like he said... one way or the other, I'll have to face him eventually if I ever want to go home and continue my life.

* * *

 **END OF DAY 8...**

* * *

 **REMAINING TRIBUTES**

Marvel (District 1 Male)

Gadget (District 3 Female)

Nettle (District 7 Female)

Rammy (District 10 Male)

 **ALSO ALIVE**

Ranger (District 7 Citizen)

* * *

 **THE FALLEN**

5th- **Cato (District 2 Male)** \- Hanged off of a tree with a rope, by Rammy.

6th- **Urchin (District 4 Male)** \- Throat slashed with a kukri, by Marvel.

7th- **Wood (District 7 Male)** \- Impaled by a Tree Mutt.

8th- **Cinder (District 5 Female)** \- Struck with an axe, by Nettle.

9th- **Glimmer (District 1 Female)** \- Blown up by landmines, by Gadget.

10th- **Katniss (District 12 Female)** \- Skewered with a spear through the back, by Marvel.

11th- **Lacey (District 8 Female)** \- Shot repeatedly with arrows, by Glimmer.

12th- **Peeta (District 12 Male)** \- Beaten relentlessly, by Cato.

13th- **Rue (District 11 Female)** – Spear thrown into chest, by Wood.

14th- **Clove (District 2 Female)** \- Drowned, by Nettle.

15th- **Weldar (District 3 Female)** \- Asphyxiated with a rope, by Rammy.

16th- **Jason (District 6 Male)** – Slashed several times in the stomach with a scythe, by Cato.

17th- **Sparky (District 5 Male)** – Speared in the gut with a spear and then stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Wood.

18th- **Sickle (District 9 Female)** – Stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Glimmer.

19th- **Thresh (District 11 Male)** – Disembowelled with a machete, by Cato.

20th- **Marina (District 4 Female)** \- Struck in the neck with an axe by Weldar.

21st- **Miller (District 9 Female)** – Knife thrown into back, by Clove.

22nd- **Tamora (District 6 Female)** – Stabbed repeatedly in the gut, by Glimmer.

23rd- **Sable (District 10 Female)** – Stuck in the skull with an axe, by Cato.

24th- **Callico (District 8 Male)** – Stabbed with a kukri, by Marvel.

* * *

 **TRIBUTE NOTES**

 **Urchin:** It felt kinda strange to write for him as a major side-protagonist, I have to admit. Given how in his timeline (set to be continued after this tale ends btw!) he's developed to be quite a lot bolder and stronger, it felt strange reverting him back to how he acts at the start of any timeline - jumpy, nervous, anxious ect - as he didn't do much of anything in the timelines of Gadget and Sickle. Strange or not though, I found him quite enjoyable to write for. A source of some good positivity and human decency, with his smaller moments of bravery. After all, he did try to be of some help to Nettle in the Feast - even if our Leading lady had things under control before it all kicked off - and was the one to row the boat through the crocodile filled marshes, and later lured Glimmer away from the supplies. In a crappy world like Panem I guess you sometimes just need a nice person to last a long time to keep things from getting too dismal and depressing. I particularly liked Urchin and Gadget's dynamic in this story. I think the two came off as sweet in their interactions, cute even... though, as anybody up to date with Gadget's own timeline will know, there is a _teensy_ little thing that dooms Urchin's crush to failure. Oops! In any case, I liked writing Urchin's role in this story but alas, Marvel was able to grab hold of him. T_T

 **Cato:** Certainly nice that the 'biggest brute' in the Arena finally got a chance to live up to his reputation, eh? After three timelines of mishaps and accidents that one could say happened surprisingly early, well, we were due a timeline where Cato lasted a long time and really kicked some ass. He may be a brutal menace, but Cato certainly proved to be quite satisfying to write as one of the primary threats to Nettle and the others. Big in size, formidable in his skills and able to use many weapons, Cato worked great as a 'berserker' kind of a villain. Once he lost his temper, there was little stopping him. Also, as this is the first time he has outlasted Clove (by more than a few seconds, that is...) I felt it'd be neat to delve into how this would effect him. As we can see, it only made his aggression worse and caused him to be even more unstable than normal. I always felt it was implied they were close in canon and as we can see, she had a decent effect on him, making him notably not-crazy in some ways. It's been said Cato and Marvel's dynamic made for some good reading and I am pleased to hear this. With Cato being more gruff and deadly serious, putting him with the more goofy, sly and trolling Marvel has a natural sort of capacity to create some comedy and decent dialogue. One could call them a 'Marvellous duo'... let's be real, only Marvel would say that, lol. Anyway, despite his strength it's a known fact that being attacked from behind can be deadly. Here we see what happens when Rammy is able to get his hands on the person who killed Sable and succeed in getting him down and defenceless... it ain't pretty. Horrific as his death was, Cato was one of my favs in this story and it felt great to really use him to a large degree this time around. ^_^

So now, four remain (five if you count Ranger!) and not only is the flood getting worse, but more of the Arena is starting to crumble. What lays ahead for the last few tributes, and non-tribute...?


	9. Day 9: My Name is Mud

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

 **Note:** Here we are, another deadly day in the Arena is here! Not much more to go, so ideally I might be able to get this story done by the end of the month! If not, then perhaps early next month. I guess we shall see how things go. Not much else to say this time except I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Oh, but before you read on, here's a hint towards the identity of the 5th Lead of the series.

 **Hint #1:** This tribute died during the Cornucopia Bloodbath.

* * *

I yawn as I open my eyes, ever so cosy. One look up and it's clear to see why. Wouldn't you be cosy, snuggled up against your lover? Ranger lays back quietly, lightly snoring. Amazing, really, how spending upwards of a week in the Arena made me miss the sound of his snores. I'd love to spend the morning cuddled up like this. The rain outside is still going on, after all, so why not?

Plenty of reasons why. The looming finale, the raising water, the fact Marvel could be looming near as thus any number of Mutts... it's just a poor use of the time left. Enjoyable as it is, I've got much more important things to get on with than snuggling. That can wait for once Ranger and I get out of this place. Surely it won't be much longer now, right?

I sure hope not. Only four left, and yet so much could go wrong in the time between now and the end. Among those things, my untimely death.

So, I sit up and get to work quickly. As I pack everything important into my backpack - food, water, medical supplies, the whole works - Ranger sits up, quickly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. As he does so I hold up a first aid spray. Hmm... I may need this for fast recovery, so I slide it into my pocket rather than my backpack.

"Morning," he says, stretching out. Quickly, he becomes just as focused as I am. "What's the game plan?"

"Like I said last night, we head for the grassy mountain," I say, slinging on my backpack and holding my axe tightly. "It'll be the only place left that the water hasn't reached soon enough. We need to get going now, before it's too late."

"Shouldn't we eat first?" Ranger asks me. "We, well... you will fight better if you're not hungry. The others could attack any time."

"We'll eat on the way," I assure him, gesturing for him to pick up the backpack. "We need to move before the crocodiles catch up to us."

"Aye, good plan," he says, grimacing. "I saw Caesar and Claudius' commentary on them when you got past a load of them on day three. Apparently part of why they are so big is that they're injected with steroids. Lots of 'em."

"All the worse for us," I shiver, peering outside the cave. "...Nuts."

Ranger moves beside me, deeply sighing. He mutters a curse, and I also let out one even more unladylike. Can you blame me though? The water has raised more than I'd expected. A lot of the trail Ranger and I walked through to return from the Feast is fully submerged, crocodiles swimming around lazily. Worse yet, some of the ground that is still safe and leads to our destination has cracks running through it. I don't trust the ground to not drop us down into the mines below. I don't think I'd survive them a second time.

Though, between cracked ground and filthy water full of crocodiles I'd pick the former every single time. I gesture with my head and lead us through down the slope. I freeze, hearing a crash, but to my relief it seems like it came from nowhere near us. All the same, this place is falling to bits. It's only a matter of time before everything around me meets a similar fate and crumbles away.

"Quickly," I mutter, starting to jog through the rain.

"Right behind you," Ranger says, wiping away a mass of rain droplets from the thick mane that is his hair. "Think that's their plan here? Destroy the Arena to push us together until only to are left?"

"Could be. I'd prefer that over crocodiles," I reply. "At least falling to my death in a hole probably hurts less than being eaten alive."

"I guess it depends how you land. Remember that poor guy who fell from a tree a week before the reaping?" Ranger's voice gross column. "Broke his back and lasted forty minutes in that state before he passed."

"I hope his family are ok in this time of grieving. How many tributes have we lost that way now?" I ask, flinching. To my last count it was eight.

"Too many," Ranger says, shortly.

I can't say I disagree at all with that. If you ask me, it became too many tributes lost in general the instant Jakki died seventy four years ago. Between the Hunger Games, the work accidents and the executions it's a wonder District Seven has even survived for this long. Same could be said for humanity itself, I guess.

As we walk along I keep glancing up towards the sky, my ears highly attentive. I must be acting oddly as Ranger quickly takes note of this, a little confused.

"What's up?" he asks me.

"I'm waiting for a cannon," I explain as we carefully make our way across some cracked ground. Careful now... "It's almost the end now. You've seen these Games every year; when only a few are left and the finale starts, they start showing the faces of the dead in the sky right away. I'm hoping that whoever I have to face-off against it won't be somebody big or strong."

"So, Gadget basically?" he asks me.

"Yeah, but even then she has those landmines and they could be a big problem," I say with a grimace. "It's gonna be tough. But, you know the worst part?"

"What?" Ranger replies. "Not the likelihood of impending death? I'd call that the worst part; it's freaking me out."

Indeed, Ranger keeps glancing around at the slightest noise. I'm used to such things in the Arena at this point, a touch less afraid than I once was, but having been in this place for only a day it's no shock to me that Ranger is a lot more on edge. After all, danger looms around every turn and beneath our feet too. A battle could begin at any moment, one ever so grisly.

Unlike me, Ranger cannot fight back. That tracker certainly will not permit it. I can't lie, it's really starting to make me feel very concerned. But, nothing says he cannot just run away, right? If there's no benefit to attacking him then I don't see why the Gamemakers will not just let him run away from danger. If a non-reaped citizen dies in this Arena then the trouble that would ensue would prove to be more unrest than the Capitol could easily deal with. Sometimes father has alluded that their their system is both cruel and fragile. A citizen's death would destabilise the whole thing, right?

I certainly don't want to see this for myself though. Not when the citizen in question is my lover.

"Stick by me, I'll keep you safe," I assure him. "Anyway, I guess objectively that is the worst part. But... is it wrong that I feel angry over my height, of all things? Marvel towers over me, Rammy is taller and pretty bulky. Even Gadget towers above me... honestly Ranger, how can a thirteen year old be so tall?"

"Genetics?" he guesses. "We don't know what they're feeding the kids in Three, after all."

"She didn't look well fed, that's the thing,"I huff. Maybe I'm being ridiculous, being sulky about my napoleon complex when my life is on the line every second that passes by. "Well, so long as I could beat her in a fight it doesn't matter. I think I can... you said it yourself, she's not got many landmines left and there's no way to go back to the Cornucopia for more."

"Aye, impossible. I mean, unless you fancy a swim with the crocs," he says, a grim smile on his face. "They'd make a great set of boots, but terrible swimming partners."

"All the more reason for us to avoid the water. Oh, watch your step," I say, quickly leading Ranger around a small hole in the ground. Not one big enough to fall into, but one that could badly twist somebody's ankle if they stepped in it and fell over. Best to avoid that, wouldn't you agree?

Time passes slowly as we work our way through the wetlands. I can't help but think back to the start of these dreadful games nine days ago. We were all alive, and the Arena was devoid of all floodings and damages. Was it really just nine days ago? It feels like it's been so much longer since that simpler time.

I can't help but silently scoff. To think I'd even refer to any part of these Games a simple time. Quite the opposite, it's an ongoing torture. At least I'm not alone... just have to cling to the positives that have not been taken away yet.

"So," Ranger says. "I was thinking that-."

The ground begins to rumble and crack, cutting Ranger off from whatever he was going to say. We stand in place for a few precious seconds, trying to see where the danger is coming from.

The ground between us cracks wide open.

"Whoa!" Ranger quickly dashes from the crack.

I shriek, running away from the widening gap as quickly as possible. Thankfully, this in itself doesn't present any sort of an issue for me. Only when I am clear of the breaking ground do I start to worry. Nuts...

The ground of the wetlands has fallen away, a ravine now opened up and full of rubble far below. With the way water is seeping into it lower down, a crocodile now appearing as well, I know better than to try and pass it. Looking back and ahead, there's no way to get around it. The ground has collapsed in such a way that it would be impossible.

Bad as this is, I could tolerate it happening if not for one particular issue. Ranger stands on the other side of the broken ground, easily visible and yet oh so far from me all the same.

"Nettle, are you alright?!" he calls over to me.

"I'm fine!" I call back. "How about you?"

"No bones broken," he says. He glances around, uneasy. "What do we do?"

"We'll have to meet up further ahead," I reply, pacing fretfully. Separation, exactly what I did not want! "The meeting point is the grassy mountain, I'll meet you there. If I get there first I'll mark an X on a tree and hide in a bush near it."

"Got it, I'll do the same if I get there first," he says. He paused, thoughtful.. "Though, we could just walk at the edges of each side of the ravine. That way we stay in each others' sight."

Clearly, he has the better idea in mind here. There's no reason to split up anymore than we have to and if nothing else I'd surely feel calmer if I could see him and know Ranger isn't getting into serious trouble. I'd like to think he'd be fine, not being a tribute or anything, but by this point I tend to associate assumptions with danger.

We walk along on opposite sides for a while, keeping our gazes ahead and on each other. For a few minutes, all is peaceful as we walk along. For once, nothing bad is happening. At least, not to us at the moment. It's pure relief.

It also doesn't last long as the rumbling starts to happen once again, and this time it's coming from my side. I yelp in alarm, darting away from the worst of it. My hopes to find stable ground are utterly dashed when the surface beneath me begins to collapse. I scream, sprinting forwards in hopes of evading it. I hear Ranger's yells of alarm and encouragement, but I can hardly make out the words.

By the time the rumbling stops and I turn back, I can only curse. The ground is even worse now! No doubt the Gamemakers don't want Ranger with me right now. So much for his idea. Ranger is much further away now, and some of the ground on his side is gone too. He won't be able to walk forwards alongside the ravine, so like how my only option now is... nuts... traversing the swamp water.

"We'll meet at the mountain!" I call over to Ranger.

"Got it, see you soon!" he calls back. "I love you, Nettle!"

I can't help but blush, my heart fluttering. No matter how many time I hear him say that, it never looses any meaning or feeling.

"Love you too!" I reply. "Be safe and-LOOK OUT!"

Ranger quickly leaps to the safest patch of featureless ground around him. A good thing too, as one of those horrible Mud Mutts just rose up right next to where he was standing. Ranger looks at it in horror; he tries grabbing a falling branch to smash it, a reflexive action of course, but screams from the zap his tracker gives him.

Seriously!? How does attacking a mutt nowhere near any of the actual tributes possibly effect the outcome?!

"Ranger! Run!" I scream, suddenly oh so very scared for him.

Ranger, thankfully, listens to me. He's quickly off over a damp, grassy hill and down the other side, out of sight. The mud mutt follows after him and, while this in itself is horrible to witness, I can easily see the beast is notably slower than Ranger is. I think he'll be ok. I pray he will be.

But right now, I have to look after myself too. Only way I can go is the swamp water, with the crocodiles within it bound to cause me plenty of issues. I grip my axe tighter, swallowing hard in unease.

"You can do this," I tell myself. "You have food to distract them with and... and you've overcome them before."

Indeed I have, and this fact does give me hope. But, mutts are something I fear greatly. You can reason with other tributes or at least try to manipulate, or perhaps trick them. But with a mutt, there is no talking. They live only to kill, only able to feel hatred and serious aggression. With my words, my elegance - assuming I have any of it left - and small stature I'd call mutts the antithesis of everything I am. They're brutal, only able to snarl and fight viciously and, as I know all to well, are really big most of the time.

But, it's like some of the elders back in Seven say. A saying that they tend to share through hard times so as to help the rest of us somehow make it through.

Fear will hold you prisoner, but hope can set you free.

I keep hope in my heart as I approach the filthy swamp. I sure hope they're right, because despite how hard I am trying... it's hard to remain confident right now.

"Just three left. Keep going," I tell myself, firmly.

* * *

 **(Time passes...)**

* * *

My legs feel raw and numb from the swamp water that comes almost up to my hips. It's the worst kind of soggy feeling, and when you combine it with the rainfall it only get more unpleasant. Of course, why stop there? Why not add fog in as well?!

Oh, I can think of several reasons not to, rest assured, but it would seem Seneca didn't think of them. Or, a more likely alternative, he did and decided it'd be funny to watch us suffer. I know, I complain too much, but it serves as a fine distraction from both the pain and the fear.

The fog is making it difficult to see where I am going as I trudge on through the water. There's no solid ground nearby - none more than two or three meters across at least - and I keep seeing glowing, red eyes off in the distance. The crocodiles are watching me, but they're not quite on the attack just yet.

It's a common formula. Keep scaring the tribute until they finally lose their cool and enter a panic attack. At that point they won't be able to fight and so the mutts get unleashed. That's why I am trying to keep my cool no matter what. The moment I panic will be the same moment I sign my death warrant, perfect penmanship and all.

Yet, I feel alive too. I guess the looming dangers and the instinctive urge to survive being unleashed... it's opened up something in me. Whatever it is, it makes me feel like I am more than I thought I was before I got reaped for these terrible Games. Or, perhaps, I'm just going mad. I'd hardly be the first tribute to go crazy.

I try not to think about Titus and the way he went crazy, consuming the bloody flesh of other tributes. Everybody knows the avalanche that took him out and awarded the only other living tribute the Victory by default was no accident.

Glancing at the crocodiles that swim distantly, it's not hard to imagine them as the theoretical Titus and myself the tribute being eaten. A bit of vomit spews from my mouth, meeting the swamp water. Ick...

"Can't be much further," I mutter, swigging back some of the water I've still got. Only a few bottles left, but if all goes well I will have water to spare by the time I win. "Mountain looks closer than ever."

Indeed, the grassy mountain looms nearer, after hours of travelling. It's truly intimidating to look at, a huge and dark mound against the backdrop of the sky. With the sun hidden behind the thick rainclouds, the greenery upon it looks much darker. An evil sort of grey, to be precise. Normally I'd shy away from such a place, but not this time. It's my final destination, for better or worse.

I wonder, how far up there will I have to go? The entire way up to the peak, the highest point of the whole Arena, or maybe just a little ways upwards? The thought of how much water it would take to flood this place to the peak is hard to imagine - and furthermore a massive waste! - and if the past is anything to go by, the Arena would surely be unable to take it. Maybe the floods will just stop once the mountain is all that remains. At that point... I guess I'll find Ranger and we'll make our way to a cave. There has to be one, right?

I hate all the unknown factors. Knowledge is power, and sure enough I feel powerless when I don't know everything that I need to know. My only comfort here is that the other three surely do not know everything about the Arena either. With how big it is, it'd be impossible.

"Hm? What's that?" I mutter, spotting something fairly close to me.

Wading my way over, I freeze for a moment when I see that it's a crocodile. I relax, ever so slightly, when I see that it _was_ a crocodile. It's dead, the reptile's corpse floating in the water with blood leaking out. It's red eyes stare far away into nothingness.

I'm quick to check the corpse over. I need to know how this thing died. Mutts don't tend to die by themselves in the Arena nor by other mutts. It's either a trap they get caught in the crossfire of, or a tribute that did the deed. If somebody's nearby, I want to be sure of this. That, and I want to know _who_ it is.

I strain myself a bit, flipping over the crocodile's corpse. I can't help but wheeze a bit, the weight of this thing being particularly heavy. On the underside, I find exactly what I am looking for.

Two deep spear wounds. No prizes for guessing who made these.

"Marvel," I mutter, glancing around the area. No sign of the Career boy anywhere around me. "Ok... good..."

I trudge onwards, relaxing a little. Oh, make no mistake, my guard is still up... but, this is proof that Marvel is ahead of me at this point. There's no chance of him sneaking up on me so long as I remain behind him. Good. He's my biggest threat left... and maybe, just maybe, I can be the one to take him off of his guard instead.

I think of Marvel, dead in the swamp water with my axe buried into his spine. I'd not call it pleasant nor enjoyable, but... maybe just necessary. He'd do the same, I have to remember that.

No more hesitating to kill.

I wonder though, where might Gadget and Rammy be? So long as they are alive, they remain threats to me. As my interacts with Rammy include him axing my shoulder and myself axing his, I don't see it being an issue to sum up the nerve to land the killing blow.

Gadget though, we did get along and she grabbed that bag of supplies for me. Sure, I didn't exactly get to use them but she still ran in and took part in the plan to destroy the Career's supplies. I can't spare her though, not when only one can live. But, perhaps I could just make it quick and painless. In the Hunger Games, that's as close to mercy as it gets. Perhaps the nightlock, then?

I shiver, my legs starting to loose the feeling within then. I need to keep moving and get to dry land as soon as I can. If I get hypothermia, I may as well lay down and wait to die. Fortunately, a small island looms ahead and I manage to wade my way over unscathed. I collapse down onto the ground, laying back against a tree. Breathing deeply, I rub my hands together in an attempt to warm them up. Alas, the friction does little. Same story when I try the same with my legs.

"Too bad I don't have time to light a fire," I say, huddling myself. "Too bad that if I did the rain would just extinguish it."

I sit quietly for a few minutes, sipping my water and eating some of the meat and bread that I've still got. Eating is no distraction, but it sure feels nice right now. I'll need to be as strong as possible for what, or who, may be laying in wait. Tapping a hand gently to my nose, I flinch. Probably broken, and even if it's not it still hurts. Same for the black eye Cato gave me.

I just sit for a while, getting myself relaxed as I can. Through calmness comes better odds of victory.

Growing draws near.

I'm up to my feet in an instant. I can see that, slowly closing in from the direction I came from, are a pack of crocodiles. They swim slowly, almost lazy in their movements. But their evil red eyes are all set upon me. Every now and then one of them snaps their jaws, my blood running colder each and every time.

Another clear message from the Gamemakers: **get moving, or die**.

My brief reprieve, if it could even be called that, is clearly over. I'm up and running in an instant, slogging through the water as best I can. I'm wary of the water suddenly getting deeper and forcing me to swim to stay afloat, but thankfully the ground doesn't drop at any point.

Glancing back, I can see that the crocodiles are still following me. It's truly to my relief that they're not aggressively swimming after me. They hardly seem to be actively trying to hunt me down. Just a constant, moving threat to keep me moving where I'm supposed to go. After all, if I were to slow down... yeah. I shiver, and not just from the cold water.

After two or three minutes of making my way through the water - during which time the crocodiles seem to have fallen behind by a few meters - I reached another small island. I allow myself a few moments to lean against the lone, gnarled tree on the island to catch some of my breathe back. Not long of course. Not when nasty crocodiles are nearby.

Just as I re-enter the water and continue jogging my way along - my waterlogged clothes ever so uncomfortable and getting worse every step I take - I hear a young, terrified scream fill the air. A scream that is coming from ahead of me, just beyond a large pile of boulders in the swamp.

The scream can only be Gadget.

I'd hide back here and wait for the danger to pass, but with the crocodiles that continue to close in I don't think that's an option for me. I'll have no choice but to go forth into danger and either fight it after Gadget dies, or perhaps fight off the threat and keep Gadget alive.

I can't deny that if she's out of landmines and also wounded then she'd my best bet to win this thing. Like I said, I'd make sure to make it quick and painless.

Either way, I have no choice but to move in and see what's going on. I narrow my eyes, giving a short nod.

So be it. Challenge accepted.

* * *

 **(A few minutes later...)**

* * *

The crocodiles have slowed down. It's been easy to widen the gap between myself and them, but every step I take brings me closer to what will surely be just another form of danger, perhaps one even greater. Gadget's still screaming and I can only assume that she's being tortured, or 'simply' being terrified by something that hasn't moved in for the kill yet. Perhaps both at once.

I don't want to see it, I seriously don't, but I'm gonna have to one way or the other. There's only one direction left for me to travel in, and if I stall there is every chance that the Gamemakers will just make the crocodiles speed up and tear my body to pieces.

"Stop, please!" Gadget wails.

I hear the sound of a horrible smack and then even worse laughter. I freeze as I ever so slowly move forwards. I know that laughter all too well. It's hardly a mystery that it's Marvel.

"Your little boyfriend isn't here to save you now," Marvel laughs, clearly milking the moment for the audience. Last minute sponsors can really be crucial, as we know. "Ooohhh, you all out of landmines? That's not marvellous... but, I'm sure your death will be!"

I make my way around the boulders and take in the scene before me. Upon the incredibly muddy bank where the swamp water meets the land lays Gadget with Marvel towering over her, his protective tracker jacker gear he once wore now shredded and broken... maybe from that crocodile I passed? She looks wounded, blood staining some of her tribute outfit. As she lays sobbing, thrashing around in the dirt, Marvel places his boot upon her chest and, twirling his spear for a bit of effect, raises it up.

One strike down and she'll be dead. If I'm gonna act, then the time to do so is right now. To act, or not to act?

I'm near enough the bank to risk trying it. My knife is in my hand in an instant and I let it fly, praying that it might hit the intended target. Marvel's neck.

The knife misses, nicking his shoulder. It gives me a strange, somewhat scary satisfaction to see the blood from the fresh cut stain his sleeve. His cry of alarm moreso. Maybe I've gone mad, or maybe I'm just glad this means he'll be a little easier to fight against.

Whatever the case, it all ends now between us one way or the other. I'd never get past unseen, so why not attack before he sees me? Common sense, pure and simple.

As Marvel hisses from the wound I clutch my big axe tightly, ready to fight. Gadget trembles in the mud, looking at me with teary, tormented eyes.

"Run!" I order her, giving a firm nod. "It's your only hope!"

As Marvel recovers from the suddenly searing pain, Gadget scrambles away. Scared, bleeding and crying she haphazardly flees, almost tripping a few times. I take deep breathes, trying not to think of the younger girl's imminent death.

After all, I need my focus for the fight I've gotten myself into.

"Well, look who it is," Marvel says, a cocky grin appearing on his face. He grimaces for a moment, but doesn't allow much pain to show. "Still alive, I see."

"No cannon. It shouldn't be news to you," I say, reaching the bank and getting onto solid ground. Well, as solid as mud can be anyway. "Still hanging in there, even without food? ...You look thinner, Marvel."

"Because of you," he hisses, his spear held tight. His eyes land upon my backpack, the parts of it he can see anyway, and his grip tightens. "You have food, don't you?"

"A sponsor likes me," I tell him. "...I have berries you can have."

I take the packet of nightlock from my pocket, offering it to him. If there's any chance he might eat this stuff before fighting me then I'm gonna take it. Alas, it would appear Marvel isn't the cocky fool I took him for. He just laughs, as if in disbelief.

"What? Do... do you honestly think I am fucking stupid?" he asks me, laughing a bit.

"I honestly don't think you're doing that to anybody," I reply. Perhaps if I tick him off a bit he won't think clearly.

Marvel laughs, actually finding the remark funny.

"I'll admit, I wish I'd thought of that one," he says, chuckling. "But... no. Do you _seriously_ think I don't know what nightlock is? I'm no survivalist at all, but that stuff grows near my home in a fenced off area. I can't speak for the others, but I'm not falling for that."

"You might have to speak for the others. They're all dead," I say, stepping forth. I breath deeply, in and out. "I killed the other Careers, Marvel. Well, killed or played a part in their deaths. I drowned Clove, the supply raid that got Glimmer killed was my idea and I distracted Cato long enough for Rammy to get him. You're next."

Marvel laughs, cocky as ever. We begin to circle each other, moving slowly around in the mud. Our eyes never leave each other and our weapons are gripped tightly, our knuckles turning white from the force. Who will make the first move? Marvel, or myself?

"You trying to intimidate me?" he asks me, snickering. "You're tiny, you're weak, you're spoiled. Oh, you have brains, but it takes more than that to win. It takes skill. And, heheheh, I don't see what you've got skills in besides your words. This time, talking isn't gonna help you, I _know_ how you work by now."

"Then let's finish this, you and I," I say, lightly hitting he flat of y axe to my palm. Come on, don't hesitate, don't fear him... "Also, bit rich of you to call me spoiled, Marvel. You've trained for years for this, I didn't. Hardly any of us have that luxury; what, were you too scared to face Urchin, or Gadget, without years of training? You're pathetic."

"Pathetic or not, it's not gonna matter when I'm alive and you're not," he hisses, ticked. He then pauses, as if suddenly making note of something. He chuckles. "Seems that guy with you is gone. Your boyfriend right? Is he dead?"

"We got separated," I say, coolly. "I'll be meeting him again soon enough just over yonder."

"Or maybe _**I**_ will," Marvel teases. "I never did end up getting your District Partner, but that guy is close enough."

"You wouldn't dare!" I hiss.

"Oh, that make you mad?" he mocks me, smirking. "It'll piss you off all the more to know that I saw the guy from Ten chasing him earlier on. I'd have joined the chase, but eh, crocodiles got in the way."

"You're lying," I say, slowly shaking my head.

"Not this time, Nettle," he replies, shrugging. "Imagine, he might even be dead now. Is he a real tribute?"

"Well, no but-"

"Then he'd _not have a cannon_ , would he?" Marvel says, his smirk widening. "Your precious boyfriend might already be dead and you'd not even know it."

My gut tightens, making me shudder. The worst part is that Marvel is right, Ranger won't have a cannon if something were to happen to him. Nuts, what if he's been cut up and...

...

Nice try Marvel, trying to put me off of my game here. I'd have to be stupid to fall for the same sort of trick I pulled on Cato that led to Peeta's death. I'm smarter than that.

"You're talking trash," I tell him. "So, we gonna do this?"

"We are," Marvel says.

With that, he lunges towards me.

Axe meets spear as we push against each other, both trying to gain advantage in our clash. We grit our teeth, looking at each other with such contempt in our eyes. My arms already feel as though they are burning, but the feeling only makes me try harder. I shan't die, not when victory is closer than ever! I try to kick Marvel in the knee but he acts faster, spitting right in my face.

I can't stop the shriek, it's so disgusting! Marvel laughs, catching me off my guard with a smack of the spear. The pain erupts in my hip as he strikes it, swiftly toppling me over. He leers, but his leer becomes a grimace when I smack him in the leg with my axe. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to knock him over as well.

I yelp as he lands upon me. Even when he's starving Marvel is a lot bigger and heavier than I am. Marvel is dazed for a moment but quickly focuses, leering again. He even laughs as he pins my legs in place and one of my arms. He reaches for his kukri blade, snickering.

"Is that it? Seriously, _that_ is it?" he asks, almost disappointed.

"That's what you'll be wishing in a few minutes!" I snap at him.

With my free hand I punch him in the throat. He wheezes, but it's not enough to get him off of me. I'm still stuck! ...Well, fine then. I have another option still open to me, thankfully. That option being to grab the first aid spray out of my pocket, the nozzle an inch away from Marvel's eyes.

"Doctor's orders!" is what I screech as I press down on the button on top.

Marvel screams, recoiling back and rubbing his eyes desperately. His maintains his grip upon his spear, but as he shouts, wails and blinks rapidly I can see what I've done to him. His eyes are a burning red colour, watering badly. No doubt stinging even worse than merely 'badly'

"Little bitch!" he yells, trying to strike me with the spear as he staggers to his feet.

Of course, by that point I'm on my own feet as well and ready to dodge. It's fortunate I've done ballet before now and with it learnt the art of being nimble. None of his strikes are able to pierce me and even those that come close aren't hard to dart away from. I'd say it's less skill and more the fact Marvel is experiencing agony of the eyes, but whatever keeps me alive is fine by me.

I leap to the side of my foe as he lunges the deadly spear forth, rolling behind him. He seems lost for a moment, the opening that I needed to smack the axe up to his back. Marvel yells, and a sickly crimson colours stains his avocado green jacket, seeping lower down his back.

"Had enough?" I ask him.

I scream as he smashes the butt of the spear against me gut, grasping my neck with his free hand a moment later. He stares into my eyes, his burning red ones a mere inch away.

It's so hard not to scream...

"Not yet," he says, hissing. "But I think you have."

He smashes me down and I'm left wheezing for breath as, once again, he stands over me with his spear ready to be driven through my throat. I scream and shout, grabbing his ankle with both hands and digging my fingers in as I try and rake the flesh as badly as I can. As I do so I try to roll around in hopes of knocking him down.

"Aarrgh, hold still!" he yells loudly, jabbing the spear down. It hits just beside my neck, sticking deep into the mud. I take the chance to rock about and scrape at him even harder! "Let go and die! WHOA!"

I finally succeed in throwing him down, his spear remaining stuck in the mud. I try smashing the axe right down upon his arm, but he's quick to roll out of the way. He tries to get up, only succeeding in slipping on the mud as he fumbles for his kukri. I miss my own chance to chop him up when he throws a handful of mud at me. Blinded for a moment, I swing around wildly, hoping to hear the crunchy sound of the axe hitting bone.

I hear a chuckle.

 _ **AAAAARRRGGHHH**_!

My left leg, already quite sore, feels aflame as Marvel stab his kukri at least an inch deep. He yanks the blade out and tackles me down, my axe sent flying. Were both shouting and screaming unintelligible words as we roll in the mud, kicking and punching at each other. I claw at him and he tries his best to strangle me, the air knocked out of me with ease. But as blood starts to trickle down his face, I know that he's surely starting to get weaker.

Right?

My leg feels nasty. Utterly awful. I just hope no mud has gotten into the stab wound; the infection would surely be severe! I remember what Atala said in training, after all. Ten percent of us would die from infection. Perhaps not a yearly trend, but something I've observed in past Games and know the horrors of all too well.

My leg is soon the least of my worries as Marvel grabs me, forcing my head in to the mud. I fumble around me, finding a rock. I swing it back to where I think his head is. Holding my breath to stop mud entering my mouth I heard Marvel grunt but he doesn't let go.

I swing again. Another grunt, no release.

A third swing, at which point my head feels light. This time he does let go, stumbling away to gasp and wheeze, down onto his knees.

"You can't... keep this up..." he pants, almost impressed. "So long as I'm... moving and fighting you'll never... win. I'm stronger than you! You're a toothpick! You hardly... look marvellous anymore."

That much is true. With my bloodied nose, black eye and leg wound I both look and feel like a complete and utter mess. The pain surges through me as I, like my foe, gasp for breath, crawling away from him as he wastes precious moments breathing hard.

It's as twisted as it is ironic. The handsome boy from District One and the elegant rich girl of District seven reduced to looking like uncivilised animals and fighting as if we were savages. Maybe as we are.

It's hard to even remember I thought killing was sick and wrong. But here I am now, in an animalistic state of survival, trying to kill this boy before he can do the same to me. I stumbled, finding it searingly painful to even stand up.

My axe lays distant, having left my grip and landed beyond the muddy bank - is it just me or did it get muddier suddenly? - and Marvel clearly realises this. He smirks, laughing weakly which gradually becomes a boisterous cackle.

"Not so marvellous without a weapon are you?" he asks me. "Oh, but what's this? I still have my kukri? Whatever will you do... besides _die_?"

Terror surges through my as I take sloppy, slow steps back through the mud. I glance around rapidly in search of any sort of an escape or a chance of defeating him. Axe is too far away, knife is lost, first aid spray won't work again, it'd take too long to bend down and grab mud to throw... wait...

Of course!

Marvel lunges right at me as I scramble out the way as fast as I can. I scream as the kukri slashes my jacket, opening a gash in it. I'm just lucky he didn't do the same to the flesh of my back, though the small cut that just formed will certainly hurt me.

But, I would think Marvel is in for an even bigger amount of hurt! I now hold his spear in my own hands, tight as can me. I'm like a savage, snarling and seething deeply, my clothes muddy and bloody while my hair is tangled and a bit scraggly. Once upon a time I'd be screaming and fleeing to the shower to scrub it all away over the course of, perhaps, two hundred hours. But that was before the Arena forced me to adapt.

Marvel looks wary, and rightly so! I'm not exactly great with a spear, but between a spear and a kukri it's no question who has the better weapon. We start to circle each other again, both looking for the perfect moment to strike.

As we circle each other I, again, feel like the mud is somehow getting... muddier, I guess? I know it's raining, but it feels like it's something more than just that. So filthy, so _vile_.

Beyond Marvel I can see that the mud looks extra thick and sticky. Perhaps if I could just get him stuck in there...

Wordlessly Marvel lunges at me. I yelp, alarmed as I hold up the spear horizontally to block the attack. He tries to force himself at me for a few moments as I push back against him. He spits in my face, but nasty as it is I don't flinch this time. I see his kick coming before he lands it. Just as well, as that was all the prompt I needed to give him a hard kick to the crotch.

"Aaaarrgghh! Why...!" he shudders in pain, slashing wildly with the kukri.

It's lucky for me that the spear is a long ranged weapon, longer than the combined length of Marvel's arm and kukri. This luck lets me smack him upside the head and follow up with a hard bash from my sore elbow right to his chest.

Marvel cries out as he falls back, but I'm soon screaming as his kukri swings up, leaving me with a cut going up my torso. It's very shallow, but the pain of this lengthy wound takes my breath away and makes me stagger and fall. The spear is sent flying from my grasp into the swamp water with a slash of pure finality. I won't be getting it back, now.

I'm gasping for air as I rise up, swaying around as I stagger to move for my axe. Marvel, sprawled on the ground, wheezes as well but remains holding his knife. I'm halfway to my axe when be began to snicker.

"Try and avoid _this_!" he yells, a second away from throwing the kukri to my gut.

I shriek in terror, bracing for the impact I'll have no time to dodge. But, it never comes. The only thing that comes my way are curses and yells from Marvel. Looking at him, it's quite clear to see why this is.

Marvel lays on his back in the particularly deep and squishy part of the mud, stuck in place. He yells and shouts, writhing and fighting to get himself free. His kukri remains in his hand, but without any freedom to move himself it's not gonna pose a danger to me.

With my foe restrained, I'd say... yeah, I'd say it's time to _**end this**_!

"Grrrr! Nrrggghhh! Come on!" Marvel yells, fighting to free himself. He manages, with extreme force that leaves him panting, to free his left arm. As he catches his breath to keep fighting, I grab up my axe.

We lock eyes with each other. Suddenly, the cockiness usually in those eyes of his has vanished. They're red and afraid. He knows exactly what I am going to do now. I must look like a complete savage after the dirty, feral duel... but, at least I shan't be dead.

"No... no..." he stammers, swallowing hard. He begins struggling violently to get himself free, but it's hardly doing him any good. He's already just as exhausted as I am, the only difference being I can still move.

The sky begins to darken, the limited sunlight being swiftly replaced by starlight and mild moonlight covered by clouds.

"You think you can win?" he asks, struggling. "You can't! I meant it, you know. Ten was chasing your boyfriend and he'll kill him. When you see it for yourself and feel the pain of it, you're gonna lose!"

He's trying desperately to keep his cool, while I try just as hard to stay standing so that I can even be in the position to bring the axe down upon his chest. Is it just me, or is the mud starting to bubble?

"You're already a bloody mess, Nettle. What chance do you have against Ten, or even that lanky girl from Three? One is stronger than you and the other is smart. You're just little," he says, freeing one of his legs. He wheezes, panicking.

"Maybe so," I reply, moving a bit closer. "...But it's better than you! You're just going to be dead."

"Wait!" he fumbles in his pocket with his free hand, quickly showing me something. A silver broach, a very finely made one if I do say so myself. Truly elegant, all the way. "See this? It's from my family, they need me! They... they need me. Please, I know you probably hate me and think I'm hardly marvellous. Probably a bastard, but... but just think of my family. Without me they're gonna be in trouble... _please_..."

I don't think he's lying to me. Lies can be effective, but it seems the truth can be even moreso. I breath deeply, pondering what life Marvel may have back in One, what he might have to return to. I'm hardly what one may call a local hero in Seven and even if I do ave my fans now, will my return be comparable to what Marvel has to get back to? I swallow hard, the thoughts racing around my head.

I can't hesitate. It's nearly gotten me killed before now.

Whatever Marvel has to return to, I don't want to die and it doesn't have a personal impact upon me besides when I am on the Victory Tour. And even then, Marvel remains my strongest foe of the three who remain. It doesn't make sense to spare him.

I grab the broach from his hand, pocketing it with the other tokens I've gathered. The look on his face as he lays trapped in the mud is so broken I'm having issues describing it. I just want this battle over. I want to be anywhere but here!

"I'll return it to you family," I say to him, lowering my axe. I grab out the nightlock, easy for him to see. "Quick and painless."

Marvel shouts and yells, kicking and struggling. I stumble a few paces back as his foot connects to my left knee. Surely my scream can be heard for a mile, even over the rainstorm.

The mud is clearly bubbling now. What is going on here? Marvel has noticed it by now too and, while he is naturally more focused on freeing himself, he also seems curious as to what's going on here. Is it just some kind of effect the Gamemakers are adding to set the 'mood' of the battle's end?

...It's not.

Horrible, raspy groans fill the area around Marvel and I. Groans of the damned and dead. Ever so slowly, from the depths of the filthy mud... _they_ rise.

Mud mutts, lots of them. It's an entire hoard of the freaks! Far worse than the lone mud mutt I saw several days ago, this has to be at least three dozen of the terrible muddy beings that are rising up all at once. They're starting to surround us both as they ascend from the filth, groaning and moaning out the most dreary, deep roars.

"Fuck, no! Get away from me!" Marvel yells, his energy seemingly restored in the panic as he fights to free himself from the filth, starting to loosen his other arm. The one with the kukri still gripped tightly. "Get away!"

"Ohgodohgodohgod," I stammer out, rapid fire. My stomach churns, my wounds sear in a way most nasty and my head becomes light from fear.

That's when I notice something. They are not attacking us... only for the single fact that they are not fully risen from the mud yet. It can't be more than ten or so seconds before they will be.

I don't even think about it. I don't dare waste any time with hesitations, considerations or anything else. I just run for my life. Sloshing through the mud of the bank I scramble my way to the wet grass that Gadget reached a while back, and ran past. No sign of her here now.

But, there is one thing I can see plainly under the starlight. The grassy mountain is very close now, just a mile away from me. Maybe not even that far. With the downpour starting to feel heavier, that's got to be where the end of the Games will be happening. Gadget and Rammy might be there right now. Ranger might be as well. No, he will be! I will see him again soon, I just know it.

Fleeing the mutts I reach the edge of a new patch of forest. I lean against a tree, panting hard. I'm in so much pain all over, my energy low and my thirst high. I yank out one of the last bottles of water to chug some down for whatever good it may do. That's when I make the mistake of glancing back.

The numerous mud mutts have all risen up, their attention turned towards Marvel who is still trapped in the filth. The roars of the mutts fill the air as they surround Marvel, but his bloodcurdling scream is the loudest noise that fills the night.

I ran away, forgetting to just give him the damn nightlock.

Nuts...

The Mud Mutts tear into him. I can't see Marvel, but it's all too easy to imagine what they're doing to him base doff of his screeches of agony. Agony I could've prevented.

I can't dwell on the horrors I'm seeing, not when the dozen or so mutts that don't join in the mauling slowly turn as one to stare at me. They lack eyes, but I can nonetheless feel their evil gazes resting upon me.

I turn and flee for my life as they roar and start to pursue me. A single glance back shows me that the mud mutts are slow, ambling along with all the swiftness and grace of a one legged bear. But I'm in bad shape as well; cut, bruised, scratched and filthy. I could hardly call myself fast right now. It's a struggle to keep moving, to keep ahead of the vile fiends.

Marvel's distant screams become extremely high pitched for a moment before suddenly there is nothing. No screams, no sounds at all. Nothing but the roars of the mutts and the heavy sounds of the downpour.

The boom of the cannon soon joins the noises.

Everything suddenly feels extra silent as I flee through the dart forest, stumbling with every step and swatting away any branches in my way with my axe. I can't stop the feeling of torment, having seen Marvel's terrible death.

The sky lights up a little, Marvel's death portrait shown in the sky. It must be the first time I've ever seen his expression so neutral, so casual, so... nothing. But, that's it... he's dead. All of the Careers are dead, with myself having a hand in each of their demises in some way, shape or form.

The fact his portrait has been shown almost instantly tells me that the finale has arrived. It won't be much longer until this whole damn thing is finally over. There are only three tributes left now... Gadget, Rammy and Myself.

Ranger's out there too, and I can only desperately wish I knew where he was right now. Surely Marvel was lying, wasn't he? He just wanted to break my focus and make me act thoughtlessly so he could find an opening to attack. It's what I would have done, after all.

I take a deep breathe, trying to keep my cool. I've come too far to die now, too far to let panic take hold of me. Just a few more hours and I'll be on a hovercraft out of here. Maybe they can do something about my leg. It's as if it were on fire!

Glancing back I can see the distant water has started to rise again, faster than before. Not only that but as a crack of lighting fills the sky and briefly illuminates the forest I see many, many silhouettes of the mud mutts a distance away. They're everywhere!

They're all staring at me, my destruction being their only desire.

Nuts!

I don't waste anymore time on thinking or looking around the place. I put all my leftover energy into sprinting through the darkness toward my destination.

After all, at the speed I'm going, I can see that the base of the grassy mountain is not even a half mile away now. I could walk my way up it and... maybe climb it. Maybe.

Nuts, I sure hope the mutts cannot climb it too.

* * *

 **END OF DAY 9...**

* * *

 **REMAINING TRIBUTES**

Gadget (District 3 Female)

Nettle (District 7 Female)

Rammy (District 10 Male)

 **STATUS UNKNOWN**

Ranger (District 7 Citizen)

* * *

 **THE FALLEN**

4th- **Marvel (District 1 Male)** \- Mauled by Mud Mutts.

5th- **Cato (District 2 Male)** \- Hanged off of a tree with a rope, by Rammy.

6th- **Urchin (District 4 Male)** \- Throat slashed with a kukri, by Marvel.

7th- **Wood (District 7 Male)** \- Impaled by a Tree Mutt.

8th- **Cinder (District 5 Female)** \- Struck with an axe, by Nettle.

9th- **Glimmer (District 1 Female)** \- Blown up by landmines, by Gadget.

10th- **Katniss (District 12 Female)** \- Skewered with a spear through the back, by Marvel.

11th- **Lacey (District 8 Female)** \- Shot repeatedly with arrows, by Glimmer.

12th- **Peeta (District 12 Male)** \- Beaten relentlessly, by Cato.

13th- **Rue (District 11 Female)** – Spear thrown into chest, by Wood.

14th- **Clove (District 2 Female)** \- Drowned, by Nettle.

15th- **Weldar (District 3 Female)** \- Asphyxiated with a rope, by Rammy.

16th- **Jason (District 6 Male)** – Slashed several times in the stomach with a scythe, by Cato.

17th- **Sparky (District 5 Male)** – Speared in the gut with a spear and then stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Wood.

18th- **Sickle (District 9 Female)** – Stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Glimmer.

19th- **Thresh (District 11 Male)** – Disembowelled with a machete, by Cato.

20th- **Marina (District 4 Female)** \- Struck in the neck with an axe by Weldar.

21st- **Miller (District 9 Female)** – Knife thrown into back, by Clove.

22nd- **Tamora (District 6 Female)** – Stabbed repeatedly in the gut, by Glimmer.

23rd- **Sable (District 10 Female)** – Stuck in the skull with an axe, by Cato.

24th- **Callico (District 8 Male)** – Stabbed with a kukri, by Marvel.

* * *

 **TRIBUTE NOTES**

 **Marvel:** At this point I think it's pretty easy to see he's the overall highest ranked of the 24 tributes of the 74th Hunger Games, on average across all timelines. Honestly not my intent, but I guess at this point I certainly have no issues over this. After all, Marvel is honestly tons of fun to write for and it seems the general response is that he's fun to read. As should be clear, Marvel was the main antagonist of this timeline's 74th Games. I think he played his role pretty well; powerful and vicious as a Career tends to be, but with plenty of flashiness and charm - of sorts, anyway - to go with it which I think kept him from coming off as generic or boring. I feel like he never had shortage of personality or something decent to add to his scenes. I think he made for a good antagonist to oppose Nettle specifically due to some of the contrasts. Marvel is particularly tall, very well trained and lives a more commoner-type life in One. Nettle is canonically tiny, has zero training nor a ton of skills of which to speak of and lives quite the exceptional life back in Seven. It just struck me that they'd be a good protagonist and antagonist to butt heads and I feel like it worked overall. Certainly made some really fun-to-write fight scenes possible. As always, I enjoy giving us more info about a character and I think I did alright with doing so with Marvel this go around. A bit of an attraction to Tamora mentioned, the fact he and Glimmer used to date, him not being quite so rich... perhaps if a Lead were to ever befriend Marvel or not be a 'kill on sight' target for him we may learn more about these? Guess time can only tell. In any case, the mud mutts were not exactly gently in their gruesome mauling of Marvel and so he takes 4th place.


	10. Day 10: Banzai Bonsai

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

 **Note:** Here we are at day ten, the last day in the Arena. I'd say it's certainly been an interesting journey in getting to this point, perhaps as both a reader and a writer. Hopefully you'll like the outcome of the games and, in any case, I always have great fun writing final battles. I guess one could say it feels like I've got a knack for it. Before we move on, time for another hint towards the identity of the 5th Lead. As a guest pointed out, the first hint wasn't very useful but not to worry, they'll get more specific as more are added. Enjoy! :D

 **Hint #1:** This tribute died in the Cornucopia Bloodbath.

 **Hint #2:** This tribute's odds of winning were 10-1, or better.

* * *

The groans and roars behind me don't feel any further away, even after I've been running without pause for several minutes now. My left leg throbs badly, the damn thing giving me such agony to even stand on. But I must keep going, I must! It's that or let the mud mutts catch up to me.

I try my hardest to not think of Marvel's horrific death at their muddy hands. Nuts, failed already. Those screams won't leave me for as long as I live Whether that means hours or years, it's too long either way.

It's dark, the rainfall heavy and the star light now starting to get hidden behind the thick clouds. Before long I might be fumbling around blindly. I've got nothing like night vision goggles or flashlights and I can't remember how to light a torch. I'll just have to hope that there will be enough light to guide me and, perhaps, enough to ensure I won't fall into a spike pit or something.

I finally make it out of the woods and into a grassy, wet clearing. I'm here, the site of the finale. The grassy mountain looms above me, making me feel smaller than ever before. I breath deeply, trying to summon my nerve. Now is not the time for fear nor hesitation.

What was it I said to Ranger that I'd do once I arrived? ...Ah, that's right! Mark a tree with an X and stay nearby. I may lack a knife now but two swings of the axe make an X into a tree at the base of the mountain easily enough. I can't wait long, not when the mud mutts are still slowly closing in. I frown, unable to stay calm. Ranger is nowhere in sight. Could he be here already and just further up? Maybe he's been delayed? So many questions and too few answers!

"Ranger! Ranger!" I call out to the darkness. Alas, no response. "Where are you?"

I shake my head, resuming my journey up towards the summit. They'd not let Ranger die, not with the extreme political backlash that they would be getting. I believe that such an occurrence would directly violate the Treaty of Treason and while part of me thinks the Capitol won't care, the more political side of me knows breaking their own 'peace treaty' wouldn't bring about anything good for them.

I just keep telling myself, sometimes... if Rome could fall into ruin, maybe one day the Capitol will as well. Nothing built may last forever, only be led towards lasting as long as it can before time claims it just like it does for anything else.

Rome, London, Bejing, America... everything turned to ashes one way or the other. Not so much what lives forever but just what dies last. Whenever Panem does, I can only hope that what rises out of the ashes might be better than what we have now. Democracy for starters, by the people and for the people. Less tyrants and greed, more rights and philanthropy. Certainly a lofty goal, maybe even a crazy one to hope for, but we hardly have a right to wish for it if we won't do something to try and make it happen.

Once I'm out of here, I'm getting straight to work on it. Never again shall I waste a day sitting around. Life is precious, time even moreso. I realise that now, after being here so long with each day being my potential last.

"Keep going, keep going," I mutter, power walking my way up the incline, panting as I go. I stumble, my leg aching worse, but it won't stop me.

Not for more than a few moments anyway. I kneel over, shivering badly. I glance around constantly as I roll up my soaked pants leg, my eyes ever watchful for any sign of Gadget or Rammy. I gag at what I see, almost throwing up. My leg! This... this is bad.

It's cut and scratched, that much I already knew, but I can see all too well that mud coats the wounds. Some of the cuts have gone a really horrible greenish brown, certainly one that can't be considered healthy by literally anybody. Fuck. Who knows what gunk may have gotten inside me...

Ok, yes, it's mud. I am aware of that, thank you very much. But what could've been in the mud? There's any number of horrible bacteria and viruses that may have gotten into my leg. Shit! Imagine, the rich girl afraid of getting her hands dirty in ways both metaphorical and literally... dead due to mud.

If I'm infected, I better get this over with fast as possible. There's not really many places to actually go anymore, so it's not like the other two are gonna be far away from me. I shiver, feeling a pain within me. Fuck, my blood is gonna be spreading the likely infection. Ok, ok, don't panic. Panic will make my heart beat faster and just make the infection spread even worse than it otherwise would.

I keep on my way up the mountain, my mind abuzz with thoughts of home, death and all the rest of it. How do tributes keep their cool in times like this? Sure, I can force myself to try... but trying is not the same as succeeding. I almost stumble over some rocks and moss, my stupid leg being rather uncooperative.

One glance over the side has my stomach turning, the drop to the crocodile filled swamp water below ever so far. Surely at least fifty meters, perhaps more.

"Ok, let's not go over the edge," I mutter, stepping backwards. I take a few deep breathes, trying to calm myself. With the coldness of the wet night my breath is easily visible when I exhale. "Calm... calm..."

I freeze, hearing the audible noise of a microphone turning on.

" **STOP, STOP**!" Claudius sounds frantic. In fact, it sounds like the man is _panicking_.

Everything is silent. There are no more words of distress from the announcer, no screams anywhere near me, no sign that anything is amiss... nothing. Not even a cannon. What happened?

Was somebody trying to escape, or vandalise the Arena? The distant sound of some of the ground collapsing tell me that vandalism won't really matter to them at this point. Not like anything us tributes can do would have the same kind of effect as the fucking ground collapsing.

Forgive my potty mouth. I have more important things to do than swear, like winning. I glance around warily as I continue to walk my way higher up the mountain trail.

"Ok Gadget... ok Rammy... where are you two?" I mutter, lightly hitting the back of the axe head against my palm. "Let's not waste either of our time."

Limping along and swatting away the wet overgrown grass with my axe, I can't get Claudius' panic out of my head. He never panics, ever. He's known for being smug, superior and grand. Never any kind of panic or fear. So, what could've gotten him so spooked?

A sickly feeling rises in me when I think of the possibility that Ranger was badly injured or... or... I can't even say the word. I just need to keep calm, somehow. Claudius stopped panicking, so maybe nothing happened in the end? Yes, that must be it. If the worst came to worst, he'd have been freaking out much more than just yelling at somebody to stop whatever they were going to do.

I'm soon forced to stop for a break, sitting on a damp boulder. The pain in my leg is too much for me to keep moving any loner without a break. I take out the first aid spray - not much left in it, just my luck - and spray it too my wound. I grit my teeth to stop myself shrieking, my jaw aching from the pressure. Calm, calm...

As I sit, trying to will myself to get moving again I hear the sonar of a sponsor. Looking up I see it floating down. I don't react much, as I can see from here that it's only a note per the norm. Still, maybe Blight's advice will be more useful than whatever Johanna may have said if she'd not ditched me.

I reach out for the parachute as it descends, clutching it close to me. Ok, let's see what Blight has to say, shall we? Don't be crap, don't be crap, don't be crap...

- _Nettle_

 _They're getting very close to you. Be on your guard, and whatever they tell you, do not let yourself lose focus. All will become clear and better able to be explained once you're out of there. Keep moving to the high ground._

 _Johanna owes me five bottles of wine if you win. So, for the love of life and trees, you need to **not die**! If you do, we'll be having a firm discussion... in a few decades, at least._

 _Good luck._

 _Blight-_

"Well, if Blight's alcohol is on the line then I really can't die. That changes everything," I mutter, huffing a bit as I turn up my nose. Slowly, I rise up and force myself to keep moving. "Hang in there Blight, I'll stay alive and save you from sobriety. Give me three hours or so."

Or, maybe, not even that long. After all, Blight says they're getting very close.

My heart begins to beat loudly, echoing almost like my footsteps do.

* * *

 **(Not much later...)**

* * *

My leg feels like a horrible mixture between searing and slimy. Pus has started to leak from a few of the wounds. I gave it some fresh bandages and used the rest of the first aid spray, but I'm not altogether certain what good it may do. I suppose I can only hope or the best and take out my last two opponents swiftly.

The downpour has lessened somewhat, but traversing the slopes is still a real hazard. Several times I've stumbled over and, while thankfully I've not gone over the edge, my entire front is muddied. My face must look filthy from the combination of blood, bruises and mud.

Despite Blight warning me that the last two opposing tributes are close by, I've not seen any sign of them. No sounds to give them away, nor footprints to follow. I guess the rain washed everything away.

Well, there is one way to get them in my sights. It's risky, but... screw it, I need to end this. If I don't then my leg may end _me_ first.

"Rammy! Gadget!" I yell out into the darkness of the night. "Let's get this over with! The sooner we fight, the sooner one of us goes home and the pain can finally end for the other two!"

I shiver in the rain, all alone with no clear signs of human life from anywhere around me.

"If we keep hiding, they'll just send mutts after us. I've _seen_ them, monsters made of mud," I continue to speak as I walk through the rainy clearing. "They're horrific. Worse than anything we could do to each other."

Still no response. I shrug, limping my way over to another boulder and sitting down. Maybe they'll get flushed out by the Gamemakers. I can only hope that it won't take long.

The storm is softer, but still rages on far above the summit of the mountain. The clouds send quite the downpour to what remains of the Arena, dislodging rocks from higher up. They cascade down, hitting into trees along the way. I grimace as I observe this, worrying thoughts of a rockslide filling my tired mind.

Lighting strikes, the sky briefly illuminated. The clouds are swirling, no doubt being manipulated around by the Gamemakers. Before long, they're reformed and now looks like numerous evil skulls filling the grim night sky.

"Cute," I mutter.

A cry makes me whirl around in a moment, ready to fight. However, I lower my axe when I see that it's just Gadget. Ok, well, perhaps I shouldn't say 'just Gadget'. I'm not going to underestimate her, whether she has landmines or not.

Though, the way she lays on her front doesn't make her come off as much of a threat. Nor do the bleeding injuries she has along her back and her arms. It looks like she's barely got any supplies left; just a small bag that looks not even half-filled, nothing more.

She looks at me with wide eyes and I stare right back at her. We're both silent, waiting for each other to make the first move.

Might as well be me.

"It's going to be over soon, one way or the other," I tell her. "We're gonna have to fight either now or very soon."

"We were allies," she mumbles, shivering. "We... we... I just..."

She sniffles, soon breaking down into a soft, miserable weeping. One swing and she'd be dead, it'd be so easy. After that it'd be just Rammy left. Strength can be found in numbers, but I don't think my odds are going to be any different whether or not Gadget fights alongside me or dies before the final battle.

...I hesitate, moving so that I am knelt beside the wounded, younger girl. She looks at me, her eyes as dead as those of the twenty one tributes already killed. No hope nor life is in them. Just the stare of a dead girl walking.

"I'm not even afraid to die anymore," she whispers. "I... I'm just afraid of it hurting me. I don't want to be in agony before I go..."

She sniffles loudly, hiccuping a bit. As she lets the tears fall and the sobs echo I keep an eye out around us, just in case Rammy is on the prowl. I need to get it over with. Sure, I'd feel awful but how much worse can I feel than I do already, right?

"Aren't you going to try to fight?" I ask her, a little skeptical.

"I have no weapons. You have an axe and I saw Rammy that way..." she points in the direction she came from. "He's got a big machete. I don't think there's any point to keep fighting if I'm just letting myself up for even more pain. Urchin's gone... he made me happy... I have nothing left, Nettle."

"What about your family?" I ask her, uncertainly.

She just lamely shrugs, looking away.

"I got thrown out onto the streets by my daddy. None of my brothers stood up for me; I've not got anybody back home and... and I have no idea what I'd do," she shivers, squeaking a bit.

She sits beside me for a few long moments, the rainfall being the only noise other than her sniffling. The sounds join into one symphony of true hopelessness.

"I figure between you and Rammy, you might make it less painful," she says, drawing up her knees. "...I'd prefer if you won anyway. Rammy looked pretty beaten, bloody too... you may have a chance. But, he's gone to where the ground is really unstable and close to flooding so it'd be dangerous. You'll have a hard task even reaching him."

Gadget flinches from her wounds, crying out from the pain. She shivers badly, constantly shaking almost to the point of being a blur.

"I don't mind dying. Maybe I'd see mommy again... or maybe everything will just stop hurting," she whispers, hiccuping again from the misery. "I just don't want it to be hurt. Not like how so many of the others died... n-n-not like that..."

I take a deep breathe. Sad as it is, I still have to do it. I'm not dying for her sake, especially when Gadget hardly wants to live anyway. I grip my axe tightly as I turn to face her.

"...Before I do it, have you seen Ranger anywhere?" I ask her.

"...Who?" Gadget asks, looking lost.

"The guy who I was with when I escaped the Feast," I say. Did Gadget even see him, actually? She was the last one to arrive, the way I recall it.

"Oh, him. Sorry, I've not seen any trace of the guy," she replies, shivering. "Please don't be mad!"

I can't stop myself when I see her so broken and afraid. I give her a gentle hug, holding her softly. Pain shoots through my leg, but I try my best to ignore the feeling of it. I just focus my attention on making Gadget feel not quite as painful as she already is before she dies.

I release her, lowing my axe. Her frightened gaze follows it, the limited starlight making the blade almost gleam for a moment. I reach into my pocket and pass her the packet of nightlock. She looks uncertain, holding the packet up in front of her.

"What is this?" she mumbles.

"Nightlock," I tell her. "Poison. Quick and painless. The most gentle way to die in this horrible place. It's the best deal I can offer to you, so if-."

"Done," she says, fumbling to open the packet. "Feel free to take my token. I won't need it and... well, keep it. Not like my family will need it back."

She passes me her token - a microchip - and her small bag of supplies. She lays on her back, staring up at the sky, for the very last time. She clutches the deadly berries in her hand.

"He's that way," she says, pointing once again. "Good luck."

"Thanks," I reply. "Farewell Gadget... you deserved better than all of, well, _this_. Rest in peace."

She doesn't respond, still staring up towards the stormy sky. I decide to leave her by herself, able to die in peace. I still have one more fight to win before I can get myself out of here and back to my home.

Plus, I still need to find where Ranger has gotten off to. He might be in trouble, for all I know.

"Ok Rammy, let's end this nightmare," I mutter, my axe held so tightly that my hand starts to ache.

I leave the clearing, heading off in the direction Gadget told me Rammy is currently hiding out. Already the ground is getting rocker and much more jagged. I have to make a concentrated effort to not fall on my face. With the rubble under my feet, it'd leave my face bloodied if I did that.

Just as I start to ascend higher up along the trail, passing by the dead remains of a shrivelled mud mutt, the cannon booms. A moment later, lighting flashes across the sky. I breath deeply in and out for a few moments. Calm, calm...

Gadget's death portrait is shown in the sky a few moments later. May she find peace in death she didn't seem to have in life. What little she told me about her life really painted one depressing image. I mean, her father throwing her out... why? How? How could a parent do that to their child? I just don't understand it.

But, those are questions for another time. My last trial lays just up ahead of me.

And, hopefully, Ranger is around here even closer than that. He has to be, he _must_ be!

* * *

 **(Half an hour passes...)**

* * *

I'm drenched and ever so sore. My leg is in a weird flux of losing all feeling and yet being aflame with horrific pain. I have a constant wince upon my battered face as I limp my way to an area that looms just ahead of me. It looks like a sort of 'bowl' upon the mountain, rocky walls lined up around it that I cannot see past. Assuming Gadget was correct, this will be the place that Rammy is hiding.

Gadget said he was injured, but how injured is that exactly? He can probably walk a lot better than I can at the least. This battle is truly on his terms, not mine. He doesn't have to do anything but wait for me. Meanwhile here's my wasting my energy even getting to where we're due to fight.

It's a tiny mercy that the Gamemakers didn't herd me towards him with more of those horrible mud mutts.

"Ok, ok..." I take a few deep breaths, shaking a bit as I lean against a gnarled tree for some support. "I have an axe, he has a machete... I've bested him twice before, more or less. I... yeah, I can do this."

I can't delay any longer, as much as I'd like to. The Capitol will be craving blood and it's not wise to deny those ghastly savages what they want. Plus, I can't let the likely infection spread even more. Time is truly of the essence... ok, here I go.

Walking through the gap between the rock walls I sharply glance around for any sign of my foe. I start by looking right above me. Such a common technique to just jump from above upon your enemy. I shan't fall for something so obvious, not after coming this far!

The clouds begin to move again, soon allowing for a bright shimmer of moonlight to be cast upon the mountain. In a flash, the area around me becomes much easier to observe with the naked eye. Many weeds, vines and other scraggly plants grow up the rock walls. The centre of this bowl is filled with lots of swamp water and I can't stop a shudder when I see that there are crocodiles lazily swimming around in it. Logs, stone pillars and boulders poke out from the water, almost like the most precarious of platforms. The whole area is fairly wide across on all sides, much more spacious than I had thought it to be.

It doesn't take more than a few seconds of glancing around before I finally spot him. Ducking behind a boulder for cover, crying out from my leg pain, I slowly peer up to where he's gotten himself hidden.

"So, you've finally made it," Rammy says, sounding so done with it all. Tired, bitter, grim. A young man who has seen too much. I can relate, except for the man part of course.

"I try to be punctual when I have an appointment to keep," I say, staring at him.

One look and I know this is going to be trouble. Rammy is perched on a high rocky overlook at the top of the bowl. He looks bloodied and beaten, his charcoal grey tribute outfit now stained a grisly crimson in several areas. He shivers, his breath hitching a bit. Nevertheless, he remains firm as he gazes down at me.

If I had a ranged weapon then it'd be simple enough to take him out, but I've got nothing that could reach him. Just an axe that I'm not stupid enough to throw. How can I win a fight against him if I can't even reach Rammy to begin with?

"So, it's just you and I?" he asks me. "The other twenty three all dead now?"

"You heard the cannons," I say, ducking down again. I can't assume he won't have some way to attack me. Paranoia can pay off sometimes. "This is it, the last fight. We're... wait, what... w-w-what did you say?"

No, no, no. Please, no. No, no, no! He must've just made a slip of the tongue. Ranger isn't with me, so Rammy may just assume he is dead. Of course, that makes sense.

"I said everybody else is dead," he says, tiredly. "Sable, Cato, the kid from Four, the boy from Nine, your District Partner. They're all dead. Even that guy at the Feast. No cannon for him, but I'm too tired to care why not. Shall we get this one over with, little lady?"

I can't help but drop to my knees and scream, shrill and horrified. Ranger! He... he... no... NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!

"You... you k-killed Ranger?!" I scream, my eyes burning with tears. I think I'm gonna throw up. A second later my thought is proven correct as my vomit splatters the boulder. "You're lying!"

"Ranger? Oh, that was the guy's name," Rammy says, almost to himself. "I saw him running by and the rules are only one can win. I'm sorry little missy, it really wasn't done with personal hate, but-."

"HE WASN'T A FUCKING TRIBUTE!"

I stand up, my fists clenched as tears pour down my red face. I can hardly breath through my seething, clenched jaw. All that passes through my mind is that the boy I loved is dead and the boy up there is the one responsible for it!

"...Say what?" Rammy asks, starting to look uneasy.

"He. Wasn't. A. Tribute," I repeat, my every syllable trembling with heartbroken rage. "There was no reason to hurt him! None!"

"...Shit," Rammy curses, grimacing. "That'll be why Claudius started yelling and why my tracker zapped me right after I did it. I thought the damn thing was broken. Uh... um..."

He has no words, and there are certainly none I would want to hear. I've dropped to my knees before I even realise it, weeping brokenly. He's dead... Ranger's gone, forever. The last I ever saw of him he said he loved me. I... I'll never hear him say it again!

It's like there's a noose tightened around my soul, everything falling apart under me. The reality crushes me, making me feel like I'm being drowned in despair. He's dead, he's dead, HE'S DEAD!

I choke and wheeze, hardly breathing properly. I can't calm myself down, I can't stop the choking.

"If he wasn't a tribute, what was he even doing in this place?" Rammy asks, as bewildered as he is uneasy. "It's meant to be twenty four a year except maybe a quell, and that ain't until next year."

"Because I... I..." I trail off, turning white as a sheet. Pure horror fills me as realisation strikes me like a bolt of searing lightning.

Ranger's death was all my fault. Mine, nobody else's. If I'd not spoke out with such contempt against the Capitol then they'd have never bought him to this horrible place. He'd be back in Seven, safe and sound... I basically killed my own lover, if not through actions then certainly through my words.

As I scream and wail it further occurs to me that I could've stopped his death even if he had come here regardless. If I'd just taken the fucking shot and gotten Rammy with an arrow when he fled the Career's camp right before Gadget moved in to set the mines... he'd... he'd never have been able to kill Ranger. One life for another and as wrong as it all is, I know I'd have chosen Ranger in the end. But due to my words and hesitation, he's dead!

Oh Ranger, no... no... NO... NONONONONO!

It's my fault...

"Apologies," Rammy says, distant. "I didn't know he as your lover. But that don't-."

"How can you feel so little?" I ask, choking back the sobs. "You wanted to destroy Cato for killing _your_ lover! I've got no doubt you made him meet a grisly end for it... now you've gone and killed my innocent lover! You've _become_ Cato."

Rammy flinches, horrified by this comparison. He struggles to find his words for several moments, time I use to punch the dirt and cry. He's gone, GONE.

I desperately try to calm myself down from this living nightmare. I need to be in the right mindset for the duel about to start. But how can I calm myself down when Ranger is DEAD?!

I take deep, sickly breathes. If he could speak to me one last time, what would he say to me?

...The way I see it, he'd encourage me to keep fighting to the end. He believed in me when I got reaped, and even after this monstrous scandal... I think he'd still believe in me. I think. I hope.

I just hope he didn't hate me in this final moments. He'd have every right to, and that scares me more than anything else right now.

"I... I..." Rammy looks horrified. "I didn't know he wasn't a tribute! How often does a twenty fifth person get added, little lady? To my count, never! I figured it was a twist or something."

"Didn't Claudius telling you to stop tip you off?" I ask, shuddering from the emotional pain.

Rammy pukes, his face aghast. He yells, saying something I can't quite make out. If I had to guess, asking somebody for forgiveness. I'd assume Sable as she's, well, the only person who I know has a personal value to him. For all I know, maybe it's to his family.

Family... a thing I'm quickly running out of. Mother is gone, father is always busy... Ranger could've been my family in years to come, but not... not anymore.

I sniffle, wiping away the tears. One of us has to die for this torment to end, the savages must have a Victor. It's gonna be me.

Or at least, it will be if I can even reach Rammy. He's so high up! How... what... I need a plan, fast.

He's clearly bloody and beaten, so I do not think he'd put up a huge fight if I were able to narrow the gap. I scan the area quickly, searching for any kind of a pathway to where he is holed up. I can't climb up that high, not with my battered leg. But he's surely not going to be stupid enough to come down.

I refuse to accept there is no way up there.

A trail of blood catches my attention. It trickles along the ground, leading up to a log. I gaze along the area beyond, my eyes in constant motion from point A at the log... all the way to point B where Rammy is sitting.

Between the log and Rammy is a terribly dangerous trail. Logs, thin rocks full of sharp areas and coatings of moss, deep water with crocodiles that look particularly hungry, plenty of mud... it's an absolute gauntlet.

It's also the only way I'm going to be able to reach Rammy. There's literally no other way I can go to reach him nor is there any ranged weapon I can use. It's either cross the gauntlet, or die from infection! That, or the crocodiles. They eye me, ever so hungry.

I shiver, but a thought occurs to me. Rammy got past the gauntlet and up there, even when he'd been beaten bloody. If he can, then so can I. There's no reason to not try when to do nothing would be to accept death. Already, I can see the water is starting to rise.

The rain pours and the wind howls like a terrible beast. It's time for me to run the gauntlet; time for my final trial to begin.

Let's do this.

" **THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE VICTOR**."

If that wasn't a clear sign that Claudius is telling us to hurry this up or face the consequences then I frankly don't know what it could be. The water is starting to rise up already, so I certainly don't need any further prompting to get moving. If I can't get past the log in time, I'm dead!

But then, if I was dead then I would at least be with Ranger once more...

No, no time for thoughts like that. I will fight with all my might, for better or for worse. No hesitation, no excuses, no giving up.

Just some good old fashioned arse kicking!

I limp to the log as fast as I can, holding out my arms for some balance. I start to make my way across it, thankfully without any interference from crocodiles just yet. I grimace, trying to hold back a screech as pain shoots up my leg.

I bite my inner cheek to stop the screams, drawing some blood from the force. I spit it out, keeping on the move. I start to hobble up a muddy bank, thankfully one that lacks the steepness of some others. I take in deep breaths, wiping away the rainfall from my face.

As I start to edge myself along a thin rocky platform at the edge of the bowl, Rammy yells out in alarm. I guess he's figured out my plan already. Nuts.

"Oh, no, you ain't getting all the way up here little lady!" he yells, his strong voice betrayed by the pain that is easy to hear. He must be in searing agony, same as me. "Take this!"

I yell as a rock hits the cliff, missing me by mere inches. It bounces off, hitting the water with splash. Shit, he's throwing rubble!

I continue to inch my way along the thin platform, my back pressed against the cliff, wheezing as I soon stumble back onto actual ground. Though, it's ground that is quickly disappearing under the water. A crocodile starts to swim towards me, far too close for comfort.

"Shit!" I scream, trying not to sob as I scramble to the high ground this patch of land offers, not that this is much.

"What's wrong, your leg making it hard?" Rammy calls to me, exhausted.

"You wish!" I yell, shuddering. "Enjoy your last five minutes!"

If he intends to try and break my focus he better be ready for me to do the same back. If I can make him screw up his attempts at throwing rubble then I'm gonna do it. He surely can't have that much of it to throw, can he?

Frankly I just wish the man would throw the damn machete. At last that way, if it missed, he'd be left basically defenceless. Alas, I doubt him to be such a fool.

I line myself up with a rocky stepping stone, one with some sickly looking moss on it. Ok, ok... calm, careful, quick...

A growling from behind me makes me act on impulse, leaping to the first stepping stone. I scream as I flail my arms for a moment, smacking into it. I clutch the stepping stone, shuddering and spitting out some of the blood from my bleeding cheek. I try to haul myself upon the stepping stone, but the searing agony of my leg and the extra weight of my waterlogged pants makes me sway and shudder. I wipe away the rainwater again, trying to clear my vision.

Shit! Crocodiles, and they're closing in on me. Nonononono...

I duck just in time to avoid some rubble that flies overhead. I suspect it could've hit me right in the side of my head. Not good! I brace myself for the high chance of death and leap to the second of the stepping stones. I land in a painful crouch, my leg starting to feel like it's pounding. I'm wide eyed, breathing deep and huskily from the pain.

Do it for him, do it for Ranger. Do. It. For. Him!

More rubble is thrown, just barely missing. I suspect Rammy's state of pain and exhaustion must be hampering his aim a lot, or he'd have surely been able to hit me by now. From where I am now I can see that he's taking deep breathes, his hand clutching a bleeding wound. I take the chance presented to me, jumping to the third and final stepping stone.

I'd say that my scream could be heard for miles, but the only person left to hear it is in the vicinity already. Rammy flinches as he observes me. I'm doing far more than just flinching. My leg feels like it's on fucking fire!

The growling draws near once again. I know better than to try fighting the crocodile in my current state. I may have an axe, but it's got powerful jaws and could probably rip my leg off with one solid bite.

"It's no use, give up little lady!" Rammy calls, hurling a fist sized stone at me.

I let myself stumble forwards to my knees, letting the stone go over me and down to the steadily rising water.

"Never! I'll never give up, not until I win or I die!" I screech, practically animalistic.

I'm starting to get further along the trail as I stumble my way along, each step feeling as though my blood has begun to boil. The thick mud sloshes under my feet as I limb through it, trying to force my way up steep slope. I shriek in alarm as I stumble, starting to slide back down.

I see a crocodile open it's jaws at the base of the slope, ready to welcome me.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" my throat hurts from the force of my screaming. I need water, so damn badly...

I swing the axe down, smashing it between the eyes of the crocodile. It grunts, draining out a pained growl. I don't stick around to see just how bad the wound is, not when my time is better spent forcing myself back up the muddy slope. I swing the axe down over and over, using it to anchor myself and prevent further slipping. I'm wheezing, my chest starting to burn as I drag myself to the top of the slope. One little glance back at the crocodile's open, bleeding jaws has me limping along quickly.

"I never wanted it to be this way," Rammy calls, tossing more rubble that goes wide. "I'd have rather stayed home in Ten with Sable, just like you've rather stayed in Seven with your man. It was never personal, none of it was. I just wanted to go home."

"So did I," I say, wheezing. "I still do... I still have something to fight for, even if nothing will ever be the same again."

"Fancy that, I feel the same," he says, tossing another rock my way. He misses, cursing. "Whatever shattered life remains back home, it's still a life. Better than death by default. I ain't an animal for the slaughter."

"Neither am I," I reply, grabbing onto a rocky surface, starting to climb along it sideways, ever so slowly but surely making it to the platform at the other side. Shit, the water's rising faster. "I'm not giving up, Rammy! I'm on my way!"

"Just come and try it," he says, hissing as he holds his hip. "I got a machete; I'd strike you down as quick as look at you."

I don't respond, focusing on making my way to my destination at the next part of this watery gauntlet. A rock crumbles in my hand; I scream, and fumble, almost falling down. My heart pounds as the water below me rises higher, almost reaching my boots.

Nothing for it. I'm gonna have to jump.

So, that's what I do. I hit the ground and crumble into a heap. I wheeze and choke out sobs as I drag myself further along. Fuck, what's going on with this damn leg?! It's not broken, I am sure of it, but surely an infection cannot set in so fast... right? It was just a bit of mud.

Time's running out, both from infection and the rising water. The Gamemakers have turned the rain to the maximum, surely. It makes my skin burn as it drenches the remaining land. Rammy yells out, pained filling his expression as the rain impacts upon his bloodied body. As he yells out, begging for it to all stop, I take the chance to force myself to keep on my way. Rammy can't toss rubble at me when he's screaming.

Then again, I'm finding it hard to even stumble along anymore. I think I'm gonna puke again, maybe with some blood mixed in with it. Whatever the agony, I shan't give up. I'm so close, so close to getting out of this hell.

Our talk of our lost lovers and how despite the shattered state our lives are in we both have something to go back to... maybe I understand this tough boy better than I think I do. I honestly can't help feeling some form of pity for him. He's just like me in some ways.

But I can't allow myself to feel too sympathetic. Not when one of us has to die, and especially as I'm not stepping up as a volunteer for death. I need to get angry, hateful, willing to kill without hesitation for even a second.

I force myself to think of Ranger and how Rammy killed him. How it must have been horrible. How I;ll never feel Ranger's hugs or kisses again, nor hear him say he loves me. I force my shattered mind to obsess over the fact my lover is dead, gone for good with me helpless to do a thing over it.

Suffice to say, I'm quickly snarling and seeing red as I stagger up to the high point of a stone slope with fire in my eyes. It's the highest point and I stand across from Rammy with my axe at the ready. We lock eyes, him over there and myself over here. It's perhaps fifteen meters or so between us. In that space, nothing but filthy swamp water with at least five crocodiles swimming around. They're fast, their jaws snapping ever so loudly.

"It ends now," I pant, struggling to stay standing. I try to keep myself in a good form for balance, recalling my ballet lessons of times gone by.

"Sure does," he says, staggering up to his feet as well. "But, how are you going to reach me? No bridge here. Just a whole swamp of trouble, and it seems I'm a foot or two higher up than you. Those beats will get you first. Unless you can take on all five at once... rest in peace, little lady."

I shake my head, trying to keep my thoughts negative and fuel my fighting power on pure anger.

"You made it over. There has to be a way," I say, coldly.

Rammy doesn't respond. He reaches down to grab another stone, his eyes locked upon me. As he does this I quickly scan the area to whatever he used to make it through to his platform over there. But there's nothing. No bridge, no logs, no vines to swing from... nothing.

Well, nothing besides a large flower growing out of the swamp water in front of me. The stem seems very thick and I can't help but wonder if this thing is poisonous. The colours make me feel wary. But, the ground is vanishing fast and if this is the only ay, I have no choice. Fuck, please work, please work, please work...

I step onto the flower experimentally with one foot, quickly seeing that it takes me weight. I stand on it and before I can begin to wonder what to do next I yelp as the flower begins to move along. Whatever the stem is connected to beneath the swamp water it's moving me slowly towards where Rammy is standing. Looks like I figured it all.

Gamemaker technology, they really can do anything. I can't wrap my mind around it, to be honest.

But, that doesn't matter. I grip my axe tightly and stare at Rammy. Not even a minute, and I'll be there within striking range. I just have to hope I'll be quicker on the draw.

"Oh no you don't," he says, narrowing his eyes. "Nowhere you can dodge to now, Nettle!"

He acts fast, throwing two rocks. One high and one to the left. I'm quick to respond with ducking down and shifting my weak body to the right.

Ok Nettle, you can do this. Keep focused and keep the rhythm. I don't think he's got much rubble left to throw at this point. Almost, almost...

More rubble. High, right, high, left, low, high!

Duck, lean left, duck, lean right, hop, duck!

I'm already panting and for a few terrifying seconds I wobble. As I crouch down and steady myself I feels tons of liquid pour down my face. I;d assume it to be rainfall, but no. It's sweat, the sweat of purest terror.

Ack! It all hurts so much...!

I struggle to keep balanced while Rammy seems like he's struggling to keep throwing what little rubble he's got left. We're both depleted, both desperate, both al but dead after so much constant suffering.

He throws the last bits of rubble as I get closer and closer. Left, right, left, right, high. But in his exhausted state it all misses me, landing with harmless splashes into the water. Will it matter though when he's gripping a machete, alert and ready to slice me?

It all comes down to this. I only get one chance at this, one attempt to land a perfect strike. One failure, and I'll be dead. But if it means being with Ranger again then-NO! I force the negative thoughts back into my mind, letting the hatred consume me.

"Sable needed you and you blew it!" I shriek. A horrible low blow, lower than low. But I can see how it instantly breaks his focus, making his face turn redder.

"Don't you dare say her name!" he roars, mad as a bull.

The flower platform finally moves into range and with the very last bit of strength I've got left I lunge myself right towards Rammy, swinging the axe down.

"BANZAI!"

"DIE!"

Pain explodes within my leg as I feel cold metal slice through it in one horrific instant. _**AARRRGGGHHHHHHH**_!

The pain... it's indescribable. My knee feels soaked in blood just like how my hair is matted heavily from rainwater. Something is sticking out that should never be outside my leg! Is... is my knee tendon slashed?! I scream and scream and _**scream**_.

The machete stuck in my leg makes me all the more shrill.

 _ **AAARRRGGGGHHHHH**_!

I fall hard, but as I fall screaming like a banshee the force of gravity brings the axe I'm still holding roughly down too. I hear a fleshly splat as I crumble to the ground, bleeding badly. I can't stop myself vomiting when I see how bloodsoaked my pants are. A fleshly, bloody mess is sticking out around the shredded knee area of my pants, everything mangled. _Shit, shit, shit_...

I'm already feeling very faint, barely registering what's going on around me. My leg hurts so horrifically that it's becoming numb, all feeling leaking out of me just as my blood is. Wiht every dribble, my life is slipping away.

I hyperventilate, though even then my breathing is weak. My eyes practically dead, I tilt my gaze up to look at Rammy. If this... if this is it... owwwwwwww... I'll look him in the eyes as I go.

Rammy staggers on the spot, his own face paling quickly. His shirt and jacket are quickly going from charcoal grey to a sickly, bloody red. More than it already was.

The axe stuck several inches deep into his chest is the obvious culprit. It must be right against his heart, or close to it. Certainly right through some bones. Nuts...

"I.. you... little..." he babbles, barely registering anything.

I slump over on the rock, hardly able to breath properly nor even blink right. The rainfall pounds upon me, only agony left in its wake. Rammy sways, some blood leaking from his mouth. With a final wheeze he falls backwards over the edge of the platform. It's only a moment before I hear a solid splash.

I hear a horrible growling and some frantic splashing as the growls suddenly get much louder and aggressive. I think I hear a scream besides my own, but I'm so far gone it's hard to know anything at all. My vision is blurring up, everything begging to turn white.

I whimper, sobbing out in agony as I flop over onto my back. I can't move a muscle anymore. I can hardly think. I'm dying ever so fast. The rain burns my face, a boom soon sounding which makes my ears throb.

"Was I... strong... enough...?" I choke out, hardly halfway to a whisper.

" **LAD...TLMEN...PRES...TOR...FOURTH...MES...LE...SAI**!"

I hardly hear what was just spoken. I feel like I'm almost gone. The sound of a loud engine fills the area as the rain begins to stop. The clouds vanish and the sun begins to rise. I think a hovercraft is starting to come down. Better hurry, I've not got long...

With what little life I still have, I just sob. Ranger's dead and it's all my fault. If I'd just taken the shot on Rammy, if I'd just kept my mouth shut. If... if I'd just not been so hesitant and reluctant to get my hands dirty...

"Ranger..." I sob, broken.

Everything goes white and then very dark. All I hear is the light flow of water and the increasingly distant engine sounds.

All I feel is my leg on fire, and the sensation of being frozen in place, suddenly picked up by something.

I croak out a gasp, everything becoming silent...

* * *

 **END OF DAY 10...**

 **END OF THE 74TH ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES...**

* * *

 **VICTOR**

 **Nettle (District 7 Female)**

* * *

 **THE FALLEN**

2nd- **Rammy (District 10 Male)** \- Struck in the chest with an axe, by Nettle. Finished off by Crocodile Mutts.

3rd- **Gadget (District 3 Female)** \- Suicide via Nightlock.

4th- **Marvel (District 1 Male)** \- Mauled by Mud Mutts.

5th- **Cato (District 2 Male)** \- Hanged off of a tree with a rope, by Rammy.

6th- **Urchin (District 4 Male)** \- Throat slashed with a kukri, by Marvel.

7th- **Wood (District 7 Male)** \- Impaled by a Tree Mutt.

8th- **Cinder (District 5 Female)** \- Struck with an axe, by Nettle.

9th- **Glimmer (District 1 Female)** \- Blown up by landmines, by Gadget.

10th- **Katniss (District 12 Female)** \- Skewered with a spear through the back, by Marvel.

11th- **Lacey (District 8 Female)** \- Shot repeatedly with arrows, by Glimmer.

12th- **Peeta (District 12 Male)** \- Beaten relentlessly, by Cato.

13th- **Rue (District 11 Female)** – Spear thrown into chest, by Wood.

14th- **Clove (District 2 Female)** \- Drowned, by Nettle.

15th- **Weldar (District 3 Female)** \- Asphyxiated with a rope, by Rammy.

16th- **Jason (District 6 Male)** – Slashed several times in the stomach with a scythe, by Cato.

17th- **Sparky (District 5 Male)** – Speared in the gut with a spear and then stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Wood.

18th- **Sickle (District 9 Female)** – Stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Glimmer.

19th- **Thresh (District 11 Male)** – Disembowelled with a machete, by Cato.

20th- **Marina (District 4 Female)** \- Struck in the neck with an axe by Weldar.

21st- **Miller (District 9 Female)** – Knife thrown into back, by Clove.

22nd- **Tamora (District 6 Female)** – Stabbed repeatedly in the gut, by Glimmer.

23rd- **Sable (District 10 Female)** – Stuck in the skull with an axe, by Cato.

24th- **Callico (District 8 Male)** – Stabbed with a kukri, by Marvel.

 **ALSO DEAD**

 **Ranger (District 7 Citizen)** \- Slashed and stabbed repeatedly with a machete, by Rammy.

* * *

 **TRIBUTE NOTES**

 **Gadget:** Coming off of Bloodline Betrayal, it honestly felt really strange to write for Gadget once again in her 'starting form'. Timid, crying a lot, hopeless and generally just a scared, miserable person. It's jarring to have written her as a much more developed, strong girl and then have to snap it back for the start in her debut as a non-Lead tribute, given besides her own timeline she'd always been a bloodbath tribute prior to this tale. As it happens, I really enjoyed writing for her in this one. I kinda feel that her 'starter self' works best as a side character than a major force given how she's mopey and miserable all the time. While she was certainly depressed I feel she ironically came off as less helpless than she was for the bulk of Wounded Warsong. Her use of the landmines was a good demonstration of her intelligence and I think proved key in several parts of the story. Especially the demise of Glimmer and the Career's supplies. Also, though, I really liked her and Urchin's dynamic; it always felt a nice mixture of natural, cute and endearingly awkward. As we know, Gadget isn't exactly gonna return the crush, but as friends they just clicked into place really nicely. I think maybe I could have had Gadget do just a _bit_ more given she reached 3rd but with this being her 'starting form' I feel it makes sense she was a bit more low-key sometimes. Her death being from suicide I felt in two minds over, but I think it works out due to her broken state and how not only was this an even more deadly timeline than her own 74th Games was, but also she had no source of comfort to give her that extra push. I think taking the most painless way out than try to survive only to certainly meet a grisly end was in-character. Anyway, overall I'd say Gadget was decent in this story. Her original death was going to be in the same rank but fairly different... but, more on that post-story!

 **Rammy:** I don't know what it is about this tough guy from Ten, but I always find him to be one of my favourites to write for. Partly I just like D10 but perhaps also how he's a sort of 'well intentioned extremist' amongst the non-Careers. More pragmatic and sometimes tragic, with his POV at least understandable. I guess it all comes together for him to generally be somebody dynamic and able to add something to what is going on. In this story I'd say he certainly added a lot as a long-term anti-villain of sorts. Putting up a good fight any time he showed up, making some kills and brutalising Cato. Indeed, any timeline where Rammy is able to get his hands on Cato will have the murder typically end up going in that sort of fashion... eep. Now, Rammy was a character who benefited from backlash. Meaning, due to some aspects of the story being particularly unpopular some change-ups were put into place and it resulted in Rammy switching rankings with Marvel as well as gaining an extra role in this tale. That being, the fact he ended up killing Ranger. As Nettle put it, he (sort of) became Cato in a sense. It was interesting to explore the emotional reactions to this from both Rammy and Nettle, though as they were the only tributes left alive, and also as the Capitol needs their Victor, it was a discussion that could not really be overly drawn out. Least of all with the rising water. Rammy may be dead, but one could certainly say even after his death his actions will continue to effect the nation of Panem. After all, he killed Ranger AKA a civilian who was neither reaped nor a volunteer. This isn't exactly what could be brushed off as a 'small error', oh _**no**_... in any case, Rammy takes 2nd in what I'd call his best role in The Nameless Chronicles thus far.

Notes on Nettle (and Ranger) will be done after the story is over. Until then, we still have two chapters to close things out. Stay tuned! :D


	11. End 1: The Defeated Victor

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

 **Note:** The Arena phase of the tale, and twenty three lives, may be over but the story hasn't reached its end just yet. After all, per the trend set in the first three 74th Games tales there are still two chapters remaining to tie up some loose ends and set a few other things up for the future. One would like to think what happens in the Arena stays in the Arena, but we all know that ain't the way this series ever goes. Time to see what kind of a shit-show awaits Nettle now... but first, how about another hint towards the fifth Lead of The Nameless Chronicles?

 **Hint #1:** This tribute died in the Cornucopia Bloodbath.

 **Hint #2:** This tribute's odds of winning were 10-1, or better.

 **Hint #3:** This tribute was fifteen years old, or younger.

* * *

The endless darkness suddenly gets chased away as light re-enters the world. I whimper a little, a hand over my face as the light blinds me for a few moments. I gasp out deeply, in and out constantly for several long moments. My breathing slows and my heart rate returns to normal eventually as, with a groan, I sit myself up.

Glancing around everything suddenly feels surreal and the only thing I feel is lost. An empty room is all I see. Well, sure, the bed I'm in is quite pleasant and the minimalist decor has some charm to it - a bit of a subdued chic, in my view - but nothing in here gives me answers to my questions.

The most pressing question, where the hell am I?!

I wrack my mind, trying to think everything over. The Arena was almost completely submerged by the swamp water, Rammy was my last opponent, I axed him right as he slashed at me, then the cannon boomed...

My eyes widen as it all hits me at once.

...I emerged victorious from the Hunger Games...

I won. Me, Nettle Bonsai, the spoiled rich girl whose Mentor didn't even assist at any point... _I won_. I cannot help but weakly chuckle to myself, almost sounding something like gleeful as I lay my head against the pillows. I did it, I survived. I can go back home now. The money I'll win matters little to me. I'm just smiling at the thought of seeing my father again and my next date with...

...

My stomach turns to ice and everything seems to slow down around me as I start to tremble. Tears pool into my eyes when I recall one horrible fact, one that I have to live the rest of my life knowing.

Ranger's dead, killed by Rammy. All because of me. All because of my hesitance to make a shot, and because of losing my temper. I got the love of my life killed!

Even as I glance at the bedside mirror and see that my face looks perfectly fine once again - was my nose always that freckly? - I remain low in spirits, with my mood only dropping faster and faster as the seconds pass. I can't hold back from sobbing.

"Ranger... oh shit, Ranger..." I weep, trying to wipe away the tears. I put my hands over my face and start to draw up my knees. I just want to lay curled up in a ball and cry it out for a while.

Wait... _what the hell_.

That doesn't feel right...

My heart is pounding as I reach for the bedsheets, bracing myself for what I may see once I lift them up. My left leg doesn't feel... right. It fact, it doesn't feel wrong either. It's an odd state of feeling nothing in particular. Ok, on the count of three I'll look.

One.

Two.

Three.

I lift up the bedsheets in one solid motion. My eyes widen, to the point they may resemble saucers. My breath becomes rapid and shaky, a panic attack setting in. No, no... nuts... no, fuck, nuts... what happened to me?!

My left leg is... gone. In it's place is a metal leg; the 'bones' of the leg ever so complex and chrome coloured, with a sort of iron foot. I can only stare in pure horror, the remains of my left leg being merely a small stump that the fake leg is connected to by bolts or something. I can barely think it over, I think I'm gonna throw up.

Two puddles of vomit on the floor later I wipe my sickly lips and stare at what's become of my leg, whimpering. This and the death of my lover... no... no...

That's when my breath really hitches as the emotional pain of a knife hits me. Looking closely at this leg I feel myself starting to snap.

Having assisted in cleaning his fake leg in times gone by, it's ever so easy for me to know when small pieces of Ranger's metal leg are in front of me. Now they're within mine. Even a plate of metal for the 'kneecap' that has N/R scratched into it.

I scream, making my own ears throb. I scream and scream, wailing and shrieking.

 _ **AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH**_!

I scream as an alarm rings.

I wail as some people enter the room, saying words that i neither hear nor pay attention to.

I shriek as I feel one of them gently hold me and another give me a light prick to the neck.

I whimper as I hit the pillows again, the darkness clouding over once more.

"Gross. What a terrible mess on the floor," I hear somebody say, before it all becomes distant...

* * *

 **(Time passes...)**

* * *

Feeling returns to me as my eyes flicker open. The light makes me flinch, but I don't allow myself to squeal or whine from it. I sit myself up as my eyes adjust, slowly becoming aware of the world around me. It's the same hospital room as the one before... I think? I can't be sure of this; for all I know, maybe it's another, identical room?

It's only a few seconds before I'm jolted to tears once again by the knowledge of Ranger's death and the loss of my leg. I'm taking deep gasps of air, trying ever so hard to remain stable. It's a losing battle, the horrible feelings too much to ignore.

"Air, air, I need air!" I scream, throwing off the bedsheets. The sight of my uncouth russet brown hospital clothes only serve to make me feel worse. "Get me out of here!"

I set both feet on the ground, flesh and metal as one, and start to walk my way to the door. The plan is foiled when I instantly stumble over as soon as I try to walk on my left leg. With a cry I fall to the floor in a heap.

I look down at the metal leg, morose. It doesn't feel anything like my old leg. It doesn't move the same way at all... how am I supposed to walk on this thing?!

I can only shiver as I stare off into space. Not only have I lost my lover and gained tons of trauma, but now I have to learn to walk all over again. Shit...

"Need a hand?" a voice asks.

Ice fills me up once again, but this time it's not due to fear or misery of any sort. No... this time, it is only from what I can call purest hatred. Looking up at Johanna, standing above me and holding out a hand, I can only scowl.

"Oh, so _**now**_ you want to help me?" I ask her, scoffing. "Get the hell away from me, I can do this myself."

I reach up to grab the sides of the bed, scrambling myself up to try and stand once again. Johanna just watches me struggle my way back up, but I ignore her as best I can.

"Whatever you have to say, Johanna, I don't want to hear it," I reply, straight to the point. "You refused to help me, and I got out of there anyway. I owe you nothing. No thanks, no words, nothing. One could say I am simply going to give you all of which you gave me... _nothing_!"

"Fine by me. Honestly, I'm not really bothered either way," she says, shrugging. "By the way, you're meant to walk a bit slower on that thing. You're still getting used to it, may as well start slower with it. Walk before you run."

"I have one question for you, and one alone," I say to her. "You may as well answer it."

"And why's that?" Johanna asks, bored.

"I'm a Victor so we'll be living in the same village, right? If you don't answer it now I'll ask every day for the next several decades until you do," I say, flatly.

"Ok, fine, ask away," Johanna replies, flinching at the thought of my threat.

"Why didn't you even _try_ to help me?" I ask her, desperate for answers. Any answer at all! "I had to make it all alone, use my words to try and build up some alliances or get out of trouble. Survive despite how hopeless I felt. Fuck, you even ditched me and passed me to Blight just because I did something you didn't like! ...Who the _**fuck**_ do you think you are Johanna?! You've been in the Arena too, you know it's different for every Victor and that none of us are quite the same. But... but I just figured maybe there could be some camaraderie as I was gonna be in the same state you were in, but you were never there for me. You were just..."

She's not even looking at me, already looking over at a picture frame on the wall. I see red, seething at this women who took one look at me and didn't even try helping me. She just wrote me off and that was that. Maybe if he hadn't I'd still have my leg.

"You done?" she asks me.

"I guess so," I mutter, trying to stand once more. I fall over in an instant. "Fuck!"

"Blight's gonna help you move around until you get the hang of it yourself," she says. She cracks her knuckles. "Short and sweet, I didn't think you had any chance at all. Spoiled rich girl who never worked a day in her life? Yeah, I just saw a loser and didn't feel like getting attached and feeling bad when you died. So, I didn't."

I think this over. In a twisted way, it makes a form of sense. But then I think of other very unlikely Victors such as Mizar, Pliny, Spud, Platinum, _Chassis_ and many others... suddenly I feel even angrier.

"Maybe you didn't want to feel worse," I say, slowly. "Or maybe... maybe you forgot that there have been many other very unlikely Victors and you were just too lazy to bother trying. That's what you are Johanna, _lazy_."

She tries to speak, but having lost a leg and much more besides I simply hold up my hand.

"Still talking," I say, coldly. "You didn't want to get attached and feel happy... well, fun little fact, now you don't get to feel any happiness either. I _**hate**_ you Johanna. Blight was more of a Mentor than you. If anybody is gonna be given the credit for getting me out of there it's him, as he actually tried in the limited time he had."

"I don't really care what you think about me," she says, and in a moment I know she means it. Guess I should've seen that one coming. "I'm really just here to check on you and say it's been a week since the Games ended. The 'delightful' President has ordered that your interview happens tonight whether you're ready for it or not."

"A week?" I squeak quietly. "A week's gone by?"

"Yep... and let me tell you, Panem is in quite a state right now," Johanna says, looking sly for a moment. "I think we're all in for quite an interesting year. That boyfriend of yours getting sliced really caused-"

"His name was Ranger," I hiss. "Use his name."

"...Fine, _Ranger_ died in the Arena and now the population is kind of freaking out over it," she says, drawling a bit. "I'm sure you'll hear more about this sooner or later, but my advice would be to keep your head down and just do what they say. Dark days are ahead if you don't."

"Why should I listen to you?" I ask her, narrowing my eyes. "How about _you_ listen to _me_ and fuck off!"

"Gladly," she says as she rises up. "Congrau-fuckin'-lations though, on winning. I'll admit, you're tougher than I gave you credit for, if perhaps just a bit."

"I am so validated by your phrase," I say, rolling my eyes.

"And anyway, don't feel too bad over the metal leg. Some tributes have left the Arena in a worse state, whether alive or dead," she says as she opens the door of the room. "Besides, don't feel bad over your leg being a stump. We're from the lumber District, we have plenty of them."

Johanna leaves as I begin to shout and seethe, but angry as I am... I know this is just the start of our conflict. We're gonna be neighbours, and no matter how far away the house I pick to live in is from hers... it simply won't be far enough.

Ohhhhh! She's lucky that I'm on the floor and not in range to kick my metal foot right up her... well, I shan't say the crude word. Nevertheless, I sure wish I'd been able to do it!

I spend a few minutes trying to get myself back up onto the bed and gain some sort of balance. It's gonna take a lot of getting used to, having a fake leg and all... yeah, a lot of getting used to.

I hold back a sob, but with how my life feels so very shattered it's a hard task. I breath in deeply.

"You are a Victor, you are strong, you are Nettle... so, act like it," I tell myself, complete with a slap to the cheek. "Don't. Cry."

A half minute passes and no more tears fall. I can't show anymore weakness than I already have. Not until I'm back home and safely locked in my room.

"Now, walk," I tell myself, firm as can be.

I take all of two steps before I sprawl to the ground again, cursing out as I do. Once again, the hard journey towards standing up begins.

The door opens. I'm about to start shouting in case it's Johanna back for round two, but it's not her. Just my Escort, Trendy Callahan. Though if you were to ask me, the purple dragon scales all over her body and the horns really are not trendy in the _slightest_. Ever the misleading name with this one. But, what can be done?

I mean, perhaps I could suggest she kindly not make herself look so grotesque but she's the kind of person who never really lets you get a word in edgeways, sideways or any ways at all. Sometimes, there are people with whom your best bet is to just nod and agree while they witter on and on.

"Get up Nettle, we have a lot to do!" she squeaks, practically yanking me up. I stumble, falling upon the bed in an instant. "There's no time for laying down right now Nettle, you just had a full week to get all the sleep you needed! Chop, chop, we have to get you ready for the interview tonight. You need to look your _**best**_! Perhaps a bit harder than I'd like as you didn't take enough care of your leg, but I have done more with less. Anyhow, if you still haven't worked out how to walk then I guess I can just get you some crutches or a wheelchair. Whatever gets us out of here and you to your prep team faster, I suppose."

Oh my Tree Gods, _please_ shut the hell up...

"A wheelchair would be nice," is what I decide to say instead. There's no point having an argument with a twit. Father days it only drags you down, and I've got too much on my mind anyway, even without a conflict with Trendy.

"I'll fetch one for you," she says, strutting to the door. "Back in a few minutes."

She exits the room, and returns in about five seconds. Maybe less, actually. I'm about to admit to myself how I'm impressed she took so little time, but that's when I see the lack of a wheelchair.

"You have a very special guest," she tells me quickly. "I'll be back shortly. I think the wheelchairs are kept at the other side of the medical area. Three turns right, two turns left."

"Actually my dear, it's three turns left and two turns right," a gentle voice corrects her. I instantly feel on edge, as it would be impossible for me to not know who this voice belongs to.

Oh no...

"Oh, thank you sir," Trendy says, a bit flustered.

"Quite alright my dear, I once made the same mistake myself... ok, fine, twice," the same voice says with a mild chuckle.

Oh no...

"Well, enjoy speaking to our latest Victor. I'll be off," Trendy says, her footsteps quickly fading.

Oh no!

President Snow calmly enters the room, casually shutting it behind him. I can only flinch as he slowly sits down on a small chair beside my bed. This is the most powerful man in Panem. The man who has had leadership over Panem for many years, longer than any other President. The man who fully approves of the Hunger Games and swiftly arranges the deaths of all who happen to not agree with his regime.

The man who no doubt knows I hate his government and that I think there are plenty of better ways for our nation to be run. I did, after all, insult the Capitol quite scathingly in the Arena right after Wood's death. This is gonna be painful...

Snow doesn't miss my fear - I'm of the mind he doesn't really miss anything - and if anything he seems to be somewhat amused by my clear unease of being near him.

"You've lost a dear companion and a leg, and yet after all that it's an old man that makes you feel the most unhappy," he remarks, a small chuckle existing through his lips. "Personally, I would be feeling the most stress over having to relearn something as basic as walking. But, to each their own I suppose."

There's no escape, nor any way of delaying this. No point either. Surely he wants to have a very firm word with me, and due to what he did to Johanna's family a few years ago... nuts. I better watch what I say and do as he asks.

I'm not letting my father die like Johanna's did. I won't make the same mistakes she made. I take a deep breath, thinking a silent prayer. If I can just somehow get through this, the rest might be all downhill.

"I assume that you want to speak with me about something," I manage to croak out. "You'd not be talking to be one on one so soon after I've woken up if you didn't need to."

"You catch on quick, as expected," Snow says, slowly nodding. "I'd expect nothing less from a girl with a political future and a certain way with words. Now, speaking of that..."

He stares at me, and I'm shivering in an instant.

"Your words will not be forgotten, nor forgiven quite so simply," he says, coldly. It's like I'm staring at a ghastly snake. One with sharp fangs, and poised to strike. "You are _very_ lucky indeed that events unfolded as they did, or right now your mangled remains would be receiving an admittedly decent burial back in Seven's tribute graveyard. It might be an unwritten rule, but frankly I may as well make it an official one; do not question the Capitol in the Arena, or face severe consequences."

Snow sighs, rubbing his temples wearily. His expression reminds of one that some of the worst off lumberjacks back home tend to make when things go wrong. They call it the 'fuck my life' expression. I'd normally wonder what Snow of all people has to feel upset over, but... I sniffle over the thought, but regardless the fact is Ranger's death in the Arena won't be making Snow's life easy at all.

I don't feel any sympathy whatsoever! Humph!

"To put it simply, you were supposed to die at that Feast. You nearly did. Of course, you then caused the boy from Two to become distracted which allowed the boy from Ten to murder him and both you and Ranger to escape. Now, if that were all that happened I would not care. We'd have just driven you both apart the next day and then collected him once he was away from everybody else by a sufficient amount," Snow says, calm. But, it's easy to see his words are gradually becoming firmer and colder. "That would've been what happened, actually. But then the boy from Ten, in a state of panic from a recent crocodile attack, jumped him. We tried subduing him through his tracker. Claudius tried to make him stop. Both of these things failed."

Snow deeply exhales, looking so done with it all.

"In short, at that moment riots erupted in most of the Districts," Snow looks weary as he says this, practically rolling his eyes. "Seven in particular was a complete disaster. Many civilians were panicking that their family members would be grabbed off of the streets and taken to the Hunger Games even without a reaping being needed. The Gamemaker who suggested this to Seneca has been killed. Seneca, too, has been killed for approving it. A few others were also killed for not doing their jobs and stopping the kill from happening."

Snow pauses, looking me right in my eyes. I can't help but fidget under his gaze somewhat. I just hope fidgeting isn't the sort of thing he has people beaten or killed for. In all actuality, it wouldn't surprise me if this were indeed the case.

"Basically, there are a lot of positions open for Gamemakers," he says, lightly. "Not only that, but Panem is in a precarious state. The only reason that crocodiles were not set upon you from all sides is because the boy from Ten became even more unpleasant in my eyes. I'd wanted you both dead and for that young girl from Three to win, but then she killed herself. I decided I no longer cared so long as this embarrassment was ended swiftly."

He stands up and paces for a minute or two. I don't dare speak up, as he's clearly not done talking. I won't show my hand until he shows his. After all, he still needs to tell me what he wants with me.

I can't help but wonder what Seven must look like now. The rioting surely messed up plenty of areas and broke a lot of stuff. People might be dead... shit... it seems I really am lucky to be alive. If Marvel hadn't gotten stuck in the mud and Gadget hadn't given up, urrghh, the thought makes me sickly to dwell upon.

Ranger's death... a tragedy. Every death in the Arena is a tragedy, but there has never before been a death like his. There will never be one like it ever again. He's the first and only person to die in the dirt of the Arena and not even be a tribute. I don't think this one is ever gonna be forgotten. Riots, fear, anger...

...

...the kinds of emotions that could really fuel a rebellion and counter-attack upon the Capitol. If I were in the position of a leader, then maybe just maybe...

Then again, I'd have to be mentally stable first. I'm still teary eyed and feel like my heart's been torn out. It's so much at once, too much for me to be thinking about fighting back so soon after I've won.

"So now, you're the Victor and for better for worse I'm going to have to just put up with you. I suspect, though, Johanna has it worse seeing as I won't have to be anywhere near you until the Quell if all goes well," Snow says, sitting down again. "Regardless, let me be very clear on something Nettle."

He leans a bit closer to me. Nowhere close enough so that we're touching, but enough to make me feel much smaller than I already do. For a terrifying moment, he stares right into my own eyes and I get a distinct scent enter my nose.

The scent of blood, one I'm all too familiar with after the Arena.

"You are treading on very thin ice. Thinner than even the ice the surviving Gamemakers are stepping upon, " he says, slow and calm. "You're under a lot of surveillance right now. One toe out of line, one little flicker of action that makes me feel distrustful and you'll regret it in ways you cannot begin to comprehend. Oh, I'm sure you've heard stories of what became of Johanna's family... I'd almost like to know what you think I may do, as I would love to do something worse."

I keep my breath stable, just barely. The fact he says these nasty threats he can and surely will carry out if I piss him off in a mere soft tone of voice... it's ever so scary. He doesn't need to raise his voice to command complete respect. Its only the brave or the foolish who willingly cross Snow. Facing off with him isn't something I feel is within me right now. Not yet.

"I won't cause any issues," I tell him trying not to sound over meek. I get the feeling I failed on all accounts. "I'll behave."

"See to it that you do," he says, nodding. "But that's not enough. I expect you to help cease the riots going on. Whether this be assisting Mayor Bonsai in ceasing issues in Seven, making anti-Rebel speeches when you are seen on camera or simply breaking up a street fight in your own free time... you'll do it. Because if you don't... you may have lost your lover and you may not be close to your father, but don't assume I cannot do anything against you."

He leans a little bit closer, the smell of blood flooding my nostrils. I feel myself becoming pale as a sheet.

"Greater men and women than you have spoken out and died," he says, calmly.

"But... but I didn't do anything, sir," I say, trying ever so hard to be brave. "Yes, I might have said a few rather unfortunate words, but I didn't kill Ranger. I'd _**never**_ have done such an unspeakable thing. It was all Rammy's work that got him... m-m-murdered. It was the Gamemakers that kidnapped him and put him in there."

"Indeed, that is all true," he says, completely agreeing. I sense an agreement with me shan't stop him though. "But all those people are dead and beyond further punishment. Your words started this whole mess, and you are still alive to pay for it. You know laws, don't you Nettle?"

"Cover to cover," I reply, no word of an exaggeration spoken.

"Then you'll know that Ranger's death has violated the Treaty of Treason," Snow says, a little red in the face. "Sure, it was Lucia's bloodlust and Seneca's obsession with ratings and stardom that were nails in the coffin, but it was in a response to you talking out of turn. There are some fairly dangerous times ahead of us Nettle."

He narrows his eyes, terrifyingly snakelike for a moment. My heart pounds, hard and ever so fast. I think I might throw up, or maybe pass out for another week. The latter doesn't even seem like a bad thing, actually...

"Don't put yourself on the wrong side of it all," he warns me. "I suppose the only loose end to it all is where all those funds that gave you that crate mysteriously came from. Oh, but that information will surface in time. It always does."

With everything said that apparently needed to be spoken President Snow calmly rises, offers empty congratulations on my victory and calmly leaves the room without another sound besides the light echo of his footsteps. Only once his steps are out of my hearing range do I begin to deeply breath in and out.

Nuts, this is bad. Snow threatened me, Seven must be in shambles of some sort, Ranger's dead, my leg's gone, the Treaty of Treason has been _violated_... what does all this mean for Panem?

Everything. It quite literally means everything, and I don't have much time to figure it all out and just what I'm going to do with my broken life when the dust settles.

I can't hold back the tears, letting myself cry it out for a few minutes. I'm only about a quarter-way done sobbing when Trendy returns with a wheelchair. She can only shake her head as she sees me.

"Stop crying, you're the star of the show tonight. This is _your_ moment!" she says, tutting. "Be happy for the stardom and glory you've won! Just think, my second year as an escort and already I pulled a Victor. Oh, this means _big_ things for Trendy Callahan!"

She helps me into the wheelchair and quickly speeds me out of the room towards wherever my Prep Team must be waiting for me. I'm silent during the whole ride there.

After all, right now my time is better spent imagining the things I've love to say to this mindless twit!

* * *

 **(Time passes...)**

* * *

Above me the crowd are cheering and applauding as Caesar hypes them up for the interview. They must be eager to see me after a whole week of me being totally unconscious. Personally, I'm just eager to go home after all of this terrible trauma.

Alas, home remains a distant eventuality for now. After all, the interview is here and as the Victor I have choice but to talk on stage to Caesar in front of a crowd of thousands. That's not even getting into the fact the entire population of Panem will be forced to watch the whole interview as it plays out.

Lucky me, the population is restless right now and far more angry than the norm. The likelihood of full fledged rebellion is stronger than ever, and Snow expects me to contain it. What do I even say? I mean, is there anything that I can really do here? I'm not quite convinced that there is a path to take where peace is upheld.

Honestly, if that path means more poor children go through what I have, is it truly a path worth walking in the first place?

Well... I won't be walking right now. Turns out, despite Trendy's belief's, I was unable to work out how to walk more than a few steps on this metal leg in the few hours we have. So now, I've been placed in a wheelchair. Apparently the stage was altered so that I will rise up next to where Caesar is sitting.

I can only wonder how Seven will react when they see the sorry state I'm in. How will father feel when he sees that one of me legs is gone forever? My stomach twists at the thought.

At least the dress I've been put into looks particularly lovely, and feels ever so soft upon me. Whatever the fabric is, I'm a fan. It's a fine, slightly puffy, ballroom dress. I can't help but feel that the sunset orange colour of it looks particularly good on me.

Too bad they made sure the dress wasn't long enough to hide my metal leg.

The show is clearly set to begin, and I still have no idea what I am going to say. I guess I'll just have to hope that, much like in the Arena, I will be able to improvise and talk my way out of danger. It's worked before... it can work again.

The platforms begin to rise up to the stage above to much applause. First goes my Prep Team, then my Stylist - a young man by the name of Zoot - follows, after that it's Trendy who wears a look of such smugness I never would've assumed to be possible.

Blight, being my replacement Mentor for lack of a better term, also stands below the stage and gives me a single nod.

"You've got this," he says, his tone gruff and yet almost... warm. "If I can make it through this thing then, frankly, who can't?"

"Well, you're a tougher person than I am," I admit, wringing my hands. "People always speak of how you kept your cool in your Games and never broke a sweat. I can't compete with that."

"It's not a contest, but by all means keep on praising me. I'm a sucker for flattery," Blight says, smirking. "C'mon, got anymore nice stuff to say to humble ol' awesome Blight?"

"Well, you look good in a suit," I manage to say after a moment of thought.

"I gotta hand it to you Nettle, you know how to make a guy in his mid thirties smile," he says, snickering.

I squeal as he removes his left hand, waving it around for a moment.

"Hand, get it?" he asks, chuckling at my wide eyed expression as he puts the fake hand back into place. "I know, I'm hilarious, you need not confirm what's obvious."

I can't help but start laughing at the sheer absurdity to it all. Blight just fist-pumps, smirking to himself.

"Nailed it!" he says, before his platform begins to rise. "Well, going up. Let's get this one over with then, eh? Drinks are on me after this."

"Fine wine please," I plead, wearily sighing.

Blight gives a thumbs up as he is elevated above the ground and towards the stage, receiving quite a lot of applause. It'll likely be nothing to the deafening cheers I'll be getting though. The Capitol does love their Victors or at least the general citizens do. I can only try and brace myself for just how much they may love me as my own platform finally begins to rise up to the stage.

"She came into the Games as a prim and proper girl from a manor who hardly knew what it was like to get her hands dirty, but she's here tonight as a warrior who went all out into the mud of the Arena to claim the Victory! Please welcome Nettle Bonsai of District Seven!" Caesar announces, grand as can be.

The bright lights blind me for several moments, making me rapidly blink from how dazzling it all is. The screams and shouts echo on and on, an endless barrage of excited rabble. I should feel flattered they clearly love me so much, but the effect is ruined by how they probably would react this way to any Victor and were also the ones cheering over the deaths of the innocent.

I just force a smile and wave to the crowd for a few moments until the cheering stops. It can't be the worst possible way to start off this whole thing, can it?

"They seem to like you Nettle," Caesar remarks from his seat beside my wheelchair. "In fact, I daresay you _might_ have some admirers."

"I think you might be right," I respond with a stage whisper.

The crowd laughs. Good, good. It's already going infinitely better than I expected. All a matter of keeping it this way for a few hours, and I can just go home at last.

Maybe the antidepressants Trendy practically forced me to ingest will be lifesavers tonight, after all.

"So, where to begin Nettle?" Caesar asks, sitting back in his chair. It's not hard to take note of how he looks just a bit on edge. A flicker in the eye here, a twitch to the cheek there. I guess he's under as much pressure as I am to make sure this interview doesn't go horrendously. "Quite a lot went down in this year's Hunger Games that it makes even I have to ponder what to speak about first."

Not Ranger, not Ranger, not Ranger...

"Well, perhaps how it all began?" I suggest, feeling that delaying the inevitable would be a futile endeavourer at best. "I was lucky that the Careers didn't think to compare the number of cannons against the number of bodies."

"Mmm, yes. I daresay next year the tributes from One and Two shan't be making the same crucial error," Caesar agrees, crossing his legs. "It had me on the edge of my seat, I tell you. In fact, according to Claudius I even started sweating. Sweating! It was suspense like I'd never seen it before; would they discover your ploy or not? Seventy percent of the Capitol betters thought they would, but it seems a majority can just as easily be wrong as right. I was impressed by how it was never your plan, but you simply adapted to falling over and turned it into a games winning move in the long-term. Tell us about that; how do you feel this trip changed things?"

"I'll be honest, I think I'd have been killed if I had not taken that fall," I admit, shuddering at the thought. I don't have to ponder to hard to know Marvel would've likely speared me right in the heart had I not played dead. "It changed my fate, and the fates of others. Thresh, the boy from Eleven, he tripped over me. I guess you all saw how that went."

"Mmmm, that's true," Caesar says, bowing his head for a moment. "Ironic how a fall spared you and a fall was precisely what doomed him. But that's all part of the Hunger Games, _anything_ may happen."

 _Anything but them being ended forever_ , I think to myself. If I were a braver girl, one not afraid to die or fight back no matter what punishment would ensue... I may even say this out loud. Alas, that's not me.

"Yeah, we saw a lot of unique things this year," I agree, a touch awkwardly. "A flooded Arena, landmines, a Victor even I didn't see coming, a... a Feast... uh, yes, it was ever so unique."

I can't stop a tear falling as I think of Ranger. His death must have been horrible to go through and... fuck, I may have to witness it in the highlights. No no! I'm not ready to see it... not right now...

Caesar catches my unease and pats me on the shoulder. He seems sincere at least, but frankly what good does a sincere shoulder pat do me? Precisely none.

"It was quite a tough, sometimes even grisly Games, but for such a harsh Arena... perhaps it's the most fitting ending of all that the most elegant of the tributes made it out safe and sound," Caesar says, attempting to comfort me. Naturally, the key word here is 'attempting'.

"I just wish I wasn't the one one, you know? It's just... I wish my lover was here beside me," I say, quietly. "But... but, um..."

"But we must move on?" Caesar says, carefully.

"...Yeah," I say, choking on my tears for a moment or two. "We must."

"On the topic of moving, how are you finding that new leg?" he asks me, sounding particularly curious. "It's the finest of prosthetics the Capitol has to offer with the current level of technology. Has it helped at all?"

"I'm sure that it will once I get used to walking on it. But right now I've only had a few hours to even try; it takes a lot longer than that to learn how to walk and I really don't know how long it's gonna take to _relearn_ that ability," I trail off, tracing a hand along the unnatural, unwanted metal limp. I want my old leg back... "I guess I just have to keep my head held high and take it all one day at a time."

"I'm sure that you can do it. After winning the Hunger Games, what can't you do?" Caesar asks, grandly. The crowd all cheer their agreement.

I can't ever see Ranger again...

"Anyway, speaking of taking it a day at a time, that's a good segway into the highlights of this year's Hunger Games. Are we ready to watch it all over again?" Caesar asks the crowd.

They all roar into an applause. They're all like a sea of cheering, colourful savages. Perhaps I, too, am a savage... but I never took extreme amounts of glee over the Games. I made my distaste clear.

My blood runs rather cold when I wonder how they will show the things I said against these people. Do these childlike citizens of the Capitol even remember what I said? Or does the fact I killed people outweigh it? Maybe they just see me as a 'bad girl' and don't think I mean it.

Fuck... the Games really feel as though they're only just truly starting, and not because of the recap. All the tension, all the deaths... the political climate, as father would call it, is truly catching fire.

But until then, the recap is starting. I'll forever wonder how ten days of nightmares can be oh so neatly compacted into just three hours of footage, but honestly I think I'd rather not know. I don't want to think about the Hunger Games any more than I have to.

The lights dim and a screen lowers down into place. It's a few moments before the eager whispers of the audience become silent and the footage begins to play. It's not even half a moment later before I start to feel incredibly sick. This is going to suck ever so much...

The footage begins with an Ariel shot of the Cornucopia clearing. The camera circles around the silver horn for a few moments and makes all twenty four of us tributes are visible at once. That's when the footage begins to cycle through us as the countdown begins. It's quickly apparent that those who died early barely get a few seconds between each other while those of us who lived longer get notably more screentime as we stand on the pedestals. My past self, standing ever so anxiously on the pedestal, gets the most by quite a margin.

The gong rings and they're all off. A few tributes decide to flee, but they are few and far between. Most of them charge into the thick of it, myself included. Seeing it from a viewers perspective I can now see the horrors I'd only had the briefest of moments to spend watching before now. I preferred it when I didn't have to see the sickening detail, frankly.

Callico is swiftly stabbed and, horrific as the sight is, it only gets worse. Sable is killed with an axe to the skull by Cato, her blood splatting off and landing against the back of my neck. As my past self fall to the ground, feigning death, the carnage only worsens. The girl from Six is stabbed horribly, a grisly knife makes the boy from Nine - Miller, I believe? - fall to the dirt, the girl from Four has her head almost entirely severed by Weldar as she screams the whole time... I have to put a hand over my mouth and swallow hard. It's the only thing that stops me vomiting on the stage.

The battle rages on with more and more tributes dying and others fleeing the area. I can only shiver when Thresh trips over past-me and gets his guts slashed open by Cato. On and on the horrible fighting goes until at long last the bloodied dust begins to settle.

Wood's horrified expression as he sees my seemingly dead body makes my heart ache. He really did care for me, even before we became true allies. He flees the area with his supplies before it's too late, and then the final kill of the bloodbath has my guts churning badly. Cato corners Jason in the Cornucopia. The boy from Six screams and wails about a 'shadow man' but Cato just scoffs and moves in for the kill, scythe in hand. Jason lays butchered in mere seconds, having never stood a chance.

That's when the footage jumps ahead after the Careers celebrate the opening kills they've made, oblivious to my continued existence. Just as I heard happen many days ago, Peeta makes his way back into the clearing. He stands his ground and makes his deal with the Careers. I can't help but feel disgusted to watch him selling out Katniss all over again, not that it did him particularly much good in the end anyway. The deal is sealed and they set out to hunt together.

"You know, it's interesting to note that this was all a ploy on Peeta's end," Caesar remarks. "It turns out, according to the ever memorable Haymitch, that he was trying to protect Katniss and lead the Careers astray at the cost of his own life. Ah... isn't love a powerful thing?"

...What...

...He... I... Peeta was never a bad guy?! I told Katniss what he'd done and she became hateful of him. Peeta died without knowing Katniss hated him. Katniss died not knowing he loved her, all because of me. Lately it would appear that I'm ruining all the lives of those I go near.

If not for the antidepressants that were forced upon me I'd be freaking out. As it stands, I'm just sobbing on the inside. I ruined a love story! Who even does something so heinous?!

I only get it together once the footage has jumped to Urchin and Gadget crossing paths, both scared out of their minds. They cry and sob, their misery somewhat halved through company. Urchin suggests the landmine idea and they start to head back to the Cornucopia. I flee just as they both arrive, starting to dig the landmines up slowly but surely.

I start to zone out by the time the anthem plays for the first time and the Careers freak-out, racing back to the Cornucopia. It's all simply too much at once to be forced to watch. It is something to note, though, that due to the Careers turning around Lacey was spared from being found and surely killed. She'd foolishly started a fire out in the open.

I sink into my wheelchair with a pale face as it all plays out. The ghastly floods, the river battle against Clove, being caught by the Careers, Wood being the one who killed Rue... I quietly ask Caesar for a vomit bag. He's all too happy to be of service and pass me one. It's filled up quite swiftly.

It only gets worse and worse as it goes along and the deaths keep coming. Glimmer's demise in particular makes me recoil in fright. The audience, however, all stand up and applaud. Some even whistle over it. Savage beasts!

When the Arena collapses they edit it to look as though it were a planned aspect to the Games rather than a dumb accident. Surely the footage of some Gamemaker pressing a button was faked. Can't the audience remember the drone that spoke to me? Clearly not as they raise no issues as the screen shows myself, Cinder and Rammy dropped into the caves. All showing of the drone has been removed. Hmmm...

All to soon Wood's horrid death is shown in full detail. All the blood, all the horrible pain he was in. I shed tears for my fallen friend... I'd once assumed the worst of him and worried over him being a true enemy, but he really was my truest friend in the end. Wood, wherever you are, I'll make sure you're not forgotten about.

They removed all my words against the Capitol. Indeed, they've edited it to be as though I'm throwing a temper tantrum over being worn out from the battle against the tree mutt. I feel my face turning a little red from this. Now, I won't deny I've thrown temper tantrums before now... but come on, not since I was thirteen!

It continues this way up to the end, with all of the anti-Capitol footage removed and replaced with either fake footage or very cleverly edited shit to make it appear as though a whole different thing happened.

Of course, they cannot remove Ranger.

He's shown at the Cornucopia, and... oh no, they actually have the audacity to put the words 'the Capitol apologises for the death of the dear citizen' on the screen. That's so basic, so cheap, so fake... the very _**nerve**_ of it all!

Watching myself and Ranger being romantic doesn't help. It just makes my heart ache all the more. Then again, I'd take that over the bloodied and beaten Cato pleading and begging Rammy for a quick end. His cries and screams are ignored when Rammy hangs him from a tree branch, tormentingly slow. A deep chill comes over me as Cato gasps and chokes to death, the rope gradually suffocating him to death as Rammy simply stands and watches.

The footage seems like it's trying to paint Rammy in a negative light. I can't say this surprises me, not when he accidental caused heaps of trouble for the Capitol an got several Gamemakers killed.

They show the kill. The one that'll forever leave me feeling empty, I'm sure.

I scream and wail, unable t hold myself together as Ranger tries his hardest to fight back. The tracker zaps him, seemingly an automatic response, as Rammy... slices him up...

I wail and cry into Caesar's shoulder, the host doing his best to comfort me someway, somehow. It's not like he can do much for me though. Not when Ranger was taken from me! Rammy has crocodiles set on him but fights them off. One leaves him bloodied and lacking a sword. I suppose that specific crocodile played a role in why I won.

I seethe, my temper becoming dangerous as the footage takes great effort to show the fact the Capitol tried to save Ranger. The tracker zapping him, Claudius telling him to stop, the fact they spawned some mutts... all too late, the damage done. I don't forgive nor do I condone. They took him from me...

From there it's all surprisingly quick. My grim showdown against Marvel in the mud, Gadget's tearful suicide and my last fight against Rammy. He's shown as the 'bad guy', but I don't think I'm getting a great edit either. I have little doubt the editors had one hell of a task to make all this footage tell some kind of a story. Especially one that will not lead to even more riots and ebellions being gaslit from it all.

So, what's the story going on here? What's the narrative going on that they've tried to stop going off of the rails?

That the bitch won but the 'evil killer' was a worse possible outcome?

That Gadget was a tragic loss who should've won over two 'thugs'?

That beauty defeated the beast and then became a beast herself?

I don't know and based on the mumbling of the crowd I'm not really sure they know as well. It's not exactly difficult to take note that not all of them are very satisfied. They applaud, of course, but I think there are a few boos in there as well. As the screen rises up and the lights come back on once again I'm a tearful mess fighting for control of myself. Caesar assures the crowd that I've just been though a lot and need a little patience for a moment.

That's undercutting it by a significant amount, Caesar.

He offers me a bottle of water which I chug down. My throat clenches but I do my best to take deep breaths and keep control. I can't use words of any sort if I'm too busy crying. If I'm crying, I can't salvage all of this mess and get myself out of trouble somehow.

"So, after seeing all of that... suffice to say, these Games were very memorable," he says, a touch anxious. "Of course, as is naturally the way, I'm sure the Quarter Quell next year will take centre stage and be the next big thing on everybody's minds. I can hardly wait! It's simply been too long since the last, I daresay!"

The crowd all roar and cheer their agreement. Quell or not, I'm just rightfully sick of the Hunger Games. I'm still in the process of working out what to even do with the shattered pieces of my life.

"Any thoughts on what the Quell might be?" Caesar asks me.

"Honestly, no idea," I reply. "I guess it's a safe bet to not be the same as the past two, right? I'm sorry, I'm still in a bit of a state from the Games we just had. It proved to be extremely, well... strenuous."

"Indeed, it does take a lot out of a tribute in order to become a Victor," Caesar agrees. "So, tell us about that, how did it feel to become a Victor?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure," I confess, tapping my fingers together. "I was more in the mindset of feeling agony in my leg from Rammy's final attack. I was hardly conscious... I didn't felt anything but pain, up until I didn't feel anything at all. I was a sorry state when they got me out. I still feel like it right now. I'm just praying so dearly that, in time, I might feel something like myself once again."

"I believe you will. Several Victors have left the Arena in even sorrier condition than you did and they turned out just fine once they were able to recover back in their Districts," he assures me, sitting up straight and gently taking my hand. "In time, you'll regrow from all this. Just like a sapling uprooted and replanted."

I don't respond, too thoroughly depressed to add much to that besides a short nod. Caesar then moves on to asking me easier questions, perhaps to somewhat settle me before he has to move onto anything particularly big. It's clearly a method that works as I'm able to answer his questions about my thoughts on the weather in the Arena, whether or not I 'shipped' Gadget and Urchin - I'll confess, I somewhat did - and whether or not the forest that the Arena started as was anything akin to those back in District Seven.

Just after a nice little talk about what I plan to do for my Victor talent - it's a split choice between piano, singing and erotic poetry - the inevitable talk over the much harsher aspects of the Games finally arrives.

"So Nettle... while I understand that you went through a very stressful ten days," Caesar begins, slow and patient. "...There is the little fact that you did say some words in that Arena that some may consider, frankly, a little bit controversial. Obviously they've been properly removed from the recap footage that will be going out on sale, but people heard them live. Nettle, what do you have to say in response to this?"

The audience are silent. They're staring at me with their modified, unnatural eyes. All the irregular colours, strange iris' and all the rest of it makes me squirm, like I'm a bug being put under a lens.

I feel awful over what I said, awful for the pain and death it led to. The consequences I never could've imagined, or perhaps was too foolish to imagine. But I also do not feel the slightest bit of remorse for how it may have made the Capitol angry. No, I only feel sorry for for the Districts and Ranger. But I can't voice it in those exact words. No, I'll have to be carefuller about this.

I can see that look in Caesar's eyes. He _wants_ me to answer this one correctly, he doesn't want this to go badly anymore than I do. I guess I'll have to do what politicians get stereotyped for doing constantly.

Lying.

Axe no questions, tell some lies. An unfortunate twist on the District motto, indeed.

"It was a very nasty situation I was in," I say, my words slow and a little shaky. I force myself to not cry. "I was exhausted, hungry, wounded and my ally... no, my _friend_ had just been killed horribly by a tree mutt. It was impalement... I mean, can you imagine how painful it would be? All the stress built up and, well, I just snapped. Not like Titus did back in the Sixty Sixth Games, but I just lost all of my composure and went a bit..."

I pause for a moment, searching for the best word to use in this context.

"Wild?" Caesar offers after a moment or two.

"Precisely," I confirm. "I just went wild and I said a lot of stuff that wasn't very appropriate. It... led to a lot of tragedy."

I sniffle wiping away the salty tears. I'm getting choked up again and even a second bottle of water from Caesar doesn't offer much help. I choke a bit on the water, my tears becoming thicker.

"It was a stressful, nasty evening. That's what it was," I choke out, trying to calm myself. I need a fucking bucket of antidepressants, right now! "That's it."

The crowd seems to 'awwwwww' sympathetically. I guess it's convenient for me they didn't notice I didn't say sorry even once and mainly just narrated the context. But that's the thing with those in politics, they often must say nothing at all and yet make it sound as if something notable was spoken. Caesar smiles, a sort of twinkle in his eyes. Perhaps he realises what I did, but if it keeps the fragile peace then he surely won't continue to push the matter.

Indeed, he doesn't. We quickly move on to talk about other parts of the Games that I lived through; being a captive of the Careers, what I hallucinated underground, the sort-of alliance I had with Jason that died at the bloodbath as soon as he did... and, naturally, my newfound phobia of crocodiles.

I do my best to remain on safe topics and not gaslight anymore riots. I have little doubt it'd go vastly beyond punishing my father if I did. They could easily block food from getting to Seven and get the Peacekeepers to smash up plenty of infrastructure. Farms, stores, homes... they'd break the whole lot of it to send a frightening message. Causing the Capitol a big issue is one thing, perhaps a worthwhile thing to some, but not when my home that I'll one day grow up to lead may suffer for it.

Every move has to be slow and carefully calculated. Rushing into things and setting off all kinds of controversy... odds of success don't look promising. It's the only similarity to Snow I have which I'd not feel sickened to admit; I like to carefully plan things out. This is the real world outside the Arena, and it's a place where you have to have a good plan.

"So," Caesar says as things appear to be winding down. "You collected quite a number of tribute tokens in the Arena from those who fell as the days went by. Blight has assured me he's got them securely in his suitcase for you, right beside the five bottles of wine he won from Johanna. What do you plan to do with these tokens?"

"Honestly, there's really only one answer here, Caesar," I tell him, still taking deep breathes. I'm so exhausted... "I'm going to return them to their rightful owners. The families of the fallen tributes; they're the ones who need these tokens the most. They're surely all full of precious sentimental value, after all. Who'd take that from them? Not I."

I wouldn't, but the Capitol surely would. They do most of the time, after all. But, it's not intended to be an accusation, Caesar just awww's over my sentimental goal and the crowd applaud. Good, peace. Certainly a nice distraction from all the violence, death and political drama I only wish I could distract _myself_ from, somehow.

"I think we're just about out of time," Caesar says a short while later, taking an exaggerated look at his watch to the amusement of the crowd. I have to admit, the diamonds on it are truly a most regal delight to see. "But to close things out, I'd like to ask you the same question I always ask to close out a victor's interview. It's a bit of a tradition of mine. Who is your favourite Victor?"

"Well, straightforwardly it's _not_ Johanna," I mutter, to which the crowd all laugh. Not sure why; it was hardly a joke. "Honestly, I'd presently have to say Blight. He came through for me when I needed it most. I'd have rather had him as my mentor from the start, but Wood won that coin-flip... anyway, he helped me when I needed it more than ever. Just knowing somebody was out there watching over me, it helped more than words can say. Though, I find a fondness within me for all the Victors my District has had... admittedly, besides Blight the two that stick out the most to me would be Pliny and Weed. Pliny's win is the stuff legends are made of in Seven and... I just appreciated Weed's underdog victory. There are plenty of underdogs amongst the Victors who, like me, got counted out a lot. Nelli, Platinum, Wheat... the list goes on. I guess, having shared the same kinds of experiences in some ways, I feel some form of fondness for most of the Victors."

Caesar applauds and swiftly the crowd joins in as well. A few even rise up and whistle loudly.

"Most people just say a name and a quick reason, but that... _that_ was a good answer!" Caesar declares, grand as ever. "I _**love**_ it! So, before we all sign things off, is there anything you'd like to say to Panem as a whole Nettle? Anything on your mind to end your experiences in the Capitol with?"

It's a chance offered to me to perhaps quell the riots a bit. I'm not sure if there is anything that I can really do, but Snow expects me to do at least _something_. If I don't listen, it'll be all of District Seven who suffer for it...

"We're all part of Panem, all of us. Whatever our home is, wherever it might be... we're people, and we share this nation. It's not like we have anywhere else left we can go after the Dark Days and all the cataclysms before them, as far as I know. So, we need to get along as best as we can," I tell the crowd and cameras, blinking rapidly. I'm starting to think the antidepressants are wearing off. Shit... "Too many fights and wars, and we may not even have Panem. What does that mean for everybody left? I guess... just... we need to carefully think a lot of things through."

"Indeed," Caesar agrees. "Right now, you need to be thinking about your recovery to tip-top physical condition back home and settling down for some well earned relaxation before your Victory Tour. We'll be seeing you in six months Nettle and I for one cannot wait to see you again once the time arrives!"

"I can hardly wait either," I say, forcing myself to smile. My jaw hurts and my eyes rapidly twitches from the effort.

Mainly, the thing I can hardly wait for is news. Information of any sort. What's going on in the Districts? I've been told it's bad, true, but being told isn't the same as seeing it for myself. What are the damages, what's the rate of injury and death? I need to know all of this stuff! I can't do much about the state of Panem nor make much of a plan for my shattered future if I don't have all of the facts right away.

Caesar seems to have deemed everything good enough, or at just barely past the threshold of 'hardly salvageable'. As the music plays into a grand, final crescendo Caesar turns to the audience to finally, _finally_ close things out.

"Let's hear it one more time for Nettle Bonsai of District Seven, this year's Victor of the Seventy Fourth Annual Hunger Games!" he roars for the crowd.

The crowd, too, roar and cheer. It's deafening and yet all my flustered emotions, tears, exhaustion and mental issues make me feel so numb to the world around me.

 _It's over_.

Those are the only words that I can think as I'm soon wheeled off of the stage in a hurry by a bunch of staffs. I hardly get to say anything in protest before I feel two pricks in my arm.

"More antidepressants, just to make sure you won't be sobbing at the party," Trendy says, as if talking over the weather. "That would certainly be an embarrassment. Can you even imagine?"

Wait... party? A party, _now_?!

I'm too out of it from the sudden injections to be able to say a word of protest. One moment it feels like I'm being quickly rushed down a hallway and then the very next moment I'm being stuffed into a car. I'm frazzled from how quickly everything happens without pause.

"Where's the party?" I eventually slur out.

"The president's mansion of course," Trendy says, gleeful. "Oh, I can hardly wait! This will be my career absolute _wonders_!"

The president's mansion.

A party.

A loud, nasty party I am being forced to attend at the home of the most powerful man in the world? A man who is currently feeling particularly sore at me.

...Nuts...

* * *

 **(Not much later...)**

* * *

My head pounds from all the endless chattering and music. It's making my entire mind feel as though it were throbbing without pause. But alas, any requests for some quiet were met with a laugh and some kind of fond look, as though I were just a little child. The nerve of some people! Alas, as the Victor I'm supposed to be out in the open to enjoy the party.

How can I enjoy it really, though, when the only reason I'm not falling to pieces is the fact antidepressants are flowing throughout my body, having been injected three times more. I'd be terrified it could get me killed if done too many times, but apparently it's been perfected to an 'art-form' and as many as fifty injections in a row are safe. I guess it makes for an improvement over a public breakdown, but only a little.

Johanna stands a distance away by a table of food, drinking some kind of beer. I'm happy for the fact she's kept her distance thus far. Another fight isn't particularly something that I would want at this moment in time. Meanwhile, Blight is entertaining a dozen or so Capitol citizens with a story of some kind. I'm no close enough to hear, but I'd assume that it's enthralling. That or maybe the citizens here are just very, very easy to amuse. Maybe it's both?

Meanwhile, I'm just sitting in my wheelchair at the edge of the dance floor. Mercifully, I'm alone right now. Nobody's come by to babble meaningless congratulations in the past ten minutes, and it's given me a bit of time to think.

More than that, however, it's given me some time to observe. Where I can observe, I can learn. Having not been pestered too much by the party guests for a bit I've been able to pick up on the fact that, while the more everyday citizens dance and party the night away without a care in the world... it's not the case for those of a position of power.

Having grown up as the daughter of a Mayor, I've been witness to some Capitol broadcasts every now and then in the privacy of my father's study after he falls asleep. Hence, people such as Antonius Light, Cressida Nova, Leto Hermes and the elusive, ever dreaded Iris Persephone are people I can recognise on sight. Much quicker than a normal teenager might, anyway.

Point is, none of them look anything close to happy. Whenever I've seen them around the party room tonight they appear to be anxious, tense, almost a bit worried. I mean, except Iris but she apparently never emotes about the slightest thing so that's not really notable. They clearly know something is up... if I could just get close enough to hear them then I might be better prepared for the grisly future ahead.

I've got no way of walking and perhaps ducking out of sight. So, maybe I could just wheel myself a little closer? It's better than nothing at all. So, I move my wheelchair little by little to where Antonius is standing. He doesn't notice the fact I'm closer to him than before, or maybe he just doesn't care. In any case, he beckons Iris over. The head scientist of the Capitol appears very dull and calm in the moment I glimpse her before I feign slumber.

She may be fairly petite and not at all stand-out in her looks - grey clothes, simple narrow glasses and basic braided black hair hardly match the general feel of the Capitol, after all - but those eyes of hers are the stuff of nightmares. Firm, emotionless, full of the most chilling sort of pragmatism... the left one is just a typical eye, a shade of firm grey, but the other has me shivering. It's a nasty red colour, with white section that form a complex looking reticle, much like that of a sniper scope

"What is it?" she asks Antonius, flat and right to the point.

"More riots are still going on," he mutters, sounding annoyed. "I love a good battle and a great batch of executions even more, but this is starting to stretch our resources a bit thin with how much is going on at once. The number of Peacekeepers being shipped out once is pretty big."

"So?" Iris asks, nonplussed.

"So, it seems the Districts have some fight left in them," Antonius mutters. "And until it becomes a full fledged war, if it even does, I can't do anything like bombing the hospitals or destroying towns to send a message."

"Send Mutts," Iris says, perfectly calm. "Your job is to fight, not complain. Or, perhaps, I could just fuse cyanide and tetrodotoxin into the reactor of the gas bombs for you and your forces. Whatever keeps things calm and efficient."

"...Be a dear and see if you can do that to the gas bombs and expand their radius. The kind that immobilise the nervous system and cause searing rashes," Antonius says, chuckling. He sounds amused and even fond. "You know Iris, you're truly a smart women. I'm a strong man, so-."

"Bye," Iris says, leaving without another word.

Antonius grunts, but I soon hear him leaving as well. I don't move a muscle though. I might be under watch right now, and 'waking up' as soon as they're gone would be pretty suspicious, So, I allow myself a few minutes to rest.

The brief rest is quickly broken when I'm flocked by more Capitol citizens congratulating me an asking for pictures or the chance to touch my metal leg. I don't dare refuse, not when I can see Snow standing atop a nearby staircase and looking my way.

He just gives me a slow nod and the lightest of smirks before he turns to talk to a small girl; his granddaughter, I believe?

My heart is pounding hard long after Snow is out of sight and the citizens have left me alone for a while. Being calm in this party is the same sort of impossible as ending the games in some kind of a multi-tribute tie. Shit, they antidepressants are wearing off again!

It all hits me at once and I'm suddenly crying loudly, practically sobbing my eyes out. I can't see past my tears, they're that thick. I suddenly go ridged and dazed, the world becoming distant a moment after a prick in my neck.

"Honestly Nettle, even when you were a mere District girl you still had some social standing. Please act in a manner befitting of your status, both political and as a Victor," Trendy says, disapproval in her every syllable.

"Can we _**please**_ leave," I whisper, shaking. My shaking gets softer as the formula does its thing, but it isn't making me feel any less miserable or broken on the inside. I just want to leave and cry the night away in the peace of a bedroom, one no noisy citizens are going to get into.

Trendy just looks as me as though I' asked her to pledge a blood oath to the tree gods of Seven.

"Why ever would you to leave?" she asks, legitimately confused. "The party's only halfway done. Now hush and be a good girl. Put on a smile, be happy, perhaps try to dance! I'll fetch you some cake. That should do the trick."

She leaves before I can say a single word more. Halfwit! But then, she's like most of the oblivious citizens here; a product of her environment. I should try not being so harsh, but right now I simply can't. I just can't!

I can only try and not cry too much. It'll be over in a few hours and then, _finally_ , I'll be able to go to bed and tomorrow I'll be going home at last. Though, that's where the real work is going to begin. Rebuilding my life somehow, helping the District through the damages and consequential sanctions that have surely been inflicted, somehow showing my sorry face to Ranger's family... and just trying to work my way through what the future is going to hold.

Antonius may have a plan, and those bombs Iris mentioned sound horrific, but the fact remains that Antonius and several other high ranked officials were particularly worried over what was going on.

Nothing will ever be quite the same again, I think. Neither for me nor the rest of Panem. The only question is, can whatever comes next somehow he made into something better than what was before?

Nuts, I hope so...

* * *

It would appear that things are certainly starting to heat up now for all of Panem. What happened in the Arena is certainly not going to be forgotten. Not just for our heroine, but neither will anybody else forget how Ranger got butchered. What will this means for the future of Panem? Time can only time, but either way there's still one chapter left to close things out! :o


	12. End 2: Train Ride Towards Tomorrow

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games They belong to Suzanne Collins.

 **Note:** Here we are, the final chapter of the story! It's been a tale of a lot of ups and downs, and not just for our heroine either, but for now the curtains will close on Nettle's timeline until some point in the future. I'll be going in depth with some post-story notes on my DeviantART page in the neat future though, so keep an eye out for those! Per the norm, plenty of critical reflection and unused / altered beta content to be talked about. :D Not much else to say except that I hope you'll enjoy the ending of Spoiled Sapling. But, before we end this, here's the last hint towards the identity of the 5th Lead of The Nameless Chronicles. can you work out who it is before the reveal at the end of the chapter? ;)

 **Hint #1:** This tribute died in the Cornucopia Bloodbath.

 **Hint #2:** This tribute's odds of winning were 10-1, or better.

 **Hint #3:** This tribute was fifteen years old, or younger.

 **Hint #4:** This tribute died less than thirty seconds into the Games.

* * *

I came, I saw, I conquered. A quote some would attribute to Julius Caesar from many centuries before the dark days and Panem. In some ways I feel like it fits my current situation, at least in part.

I came to the Capitol.

I saw many, many horrors without pause nor relief.

I conquered my last foe in the Arena and escape that terrible place with my life.

Alas, even as I sit on the throne up here on the raised balcony for the crowning ceremony I certainly do not feel like much of a Victor at all. I mean, what have I gained, really? Money and fame perhaps, but I was already rich and I never really desired to become famous. As for what I've lost?

My leg.

My love.

Whatever stability I used to have day to day. It's too much change and _too much noise_! The crowd are ever so excited, and I'm starting to worry that the sheer volume of their cheering may end up rupturing my eardrums. Mercy me, that'd be the shitty icing on this dreadful cake.

I guess what I'm saying is that all I've gotten out of this whole trauma is my life, nothing more. My life was something I already had, and enjoyed! Now... now it's never going to go back to the way it was. It's just impossible. Just like how walking the same way I used to is no longer a thing I can do.

I try not to dwell on how painful everything feels. Why would I do that when, really, the battle that raged on in the Arena is clearly only just beginning? Blight said the true fights are what happen outside of the Arena and I think I'm starting to see what he means. After all, it wasn't hard to overhear all the Peacekeepers muttering about riots and small rebellions popping up all over the place. It's my actions that led to all of it, or at least lined things up for it to become possible, so frankly I'm afraid for what my place in the future is going to be. One thing is for sure, life is going to become dangerous. Precarious, even.

Snow is addressing the crowd, his back towards me. I get the feeling he would rather acknowledge me as little as he can get away with. After all, I've caused him every so many headaches over the past few days and it surely cannot be good for his health. He's an old man, after all.

Wish he'd drop dead right here on the damn balcony, but sadly security was high and there's no way a weapon could be bought up here. If only...

The crowd's loud cheering quietens in one fell swoop as Snow lightly raises his hands. I'd be impressed over the power of his gestures alone if it were not for the fact I abhor this man for all the pain and suffering his fascist regime has inflicted upon the land. There has to be a better way to govern than through force and fear.

Snow picks up a crown from its place upon a cushion atop a pedestal, turning towards me. I try to rise as I have been instructed to, but it's still hard to even balance myself on this metal leg when standing still. I reach beside me to grab the arms of the throne for what support it'll offer, putting strain on both my legs as I remain hazardously balanced. If Snow doesn't reach me soon, I'll certainly collapse.

Thankfully he doesn't waste time and swiftly moves forth to place the crown upon my head. As soon as it's in place the massive crowd erupts into their loudest applause yet. So much cheering and screaming in delight, as if this were somehow the happiest time of the year. For them, I suppose it is. I wave to the crowd from my seat; while I remain sitting down only a few can see me, but the screens will be showing me for those who cannot spot me with their eyes, and the better show I give them the less trouble I might be in.

But Snow's firm gaze as he stands before me makes me think that I might be in deep tree sap no matter what I do. Nuts...

"Congratulations," Snow says, his tone a calm whisper. His eyes though, they betray how displeased he is. I gulp. "Certainly not an outcome I would have foreseen. You must be very happy that you're leaving the Capitol, for now, with your life mostly intact."

"...I am," I say, firmly nodding. "I've missed it in Seven. You could say I have a newfound appreciation for it. I'm glad to be able to go home and experience it once more."

"Well, I'm very happy for you," Snow says, clearly meaning precisely none of what he just said. "But whether you're in Seven, the Capitol or any other place in Panem... just remember you're being watched very closely. Right now there are many riots, and it could lead to war."

He leans just a bit closer, his snake eyes almost seeming to flare for a moment. I shudder as the scent of blood fills my nostrils. It's hard not to gag.

"You _don't_ want a war. You _**don't**_ want to be forced into any kind of a leadership role if war were to emerge. Especially as you'd certainly be on the losing side of it all," he says. I never knew a pleasant voice could be oh so horrific in its delivery. "So, do whatever is demanded of you to contain the spark... or, your admittedly good luck will turn terrible."

Frankly, I already thought my luck was in the terrible-tier, but I have no delusions about the fact it could easily get worse if Snow were to command it. I'm tight lipped, forcing calmness into my tense expression and give an obedient nod. He seems satisfied, at least for now, and turns back to the ground. Of course, he's still very firm and dangerous.

As Snow talks to the crowd - I can't be bothered to listen to what he's telling them, honestly. Just propaganda and that sort of stuff, really. - I just sit here on the throne, lost in thought. After some time I take the crown off my my head and look it over. Shiny, some sharp prongs to it and clearly made from some particularly solid gold. I'm not sure as to what the carat number is, but it's clearly made of good stuff.

All the death, all the torment, all of the loss and suffering... all those horrors and innocent lives traded for a damn crown. I'd love to just throw this piece of shit off of the balcony, but I can't out myself into even more trouble. I guess all I can do, besides try not to cry, is continue to wave to the crowd and force a smile.

At least it's almost over. One more hour, more or less, and I'll be on the train en-route back home to District Seven. Once I'm in my bedroom on the train I can cry in peace.

But, with all the riots and the sparks of rebellion and fear... is peace even a realistic possibility anymore? I'm not overly convinced that it is.

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

The train has been moving along for quite a while now, thundering down the rails towards District Seven. From the inside of the train, it's practically soundless and you can't even feel a thing despite how fast it's going. All this as well as the stellar furniture fancy foods make the train truly appear like the height of luxury. A train fit for a king, or queen.

Alas, I can't relax on this train no matter how hard I try. Sure, the food is wonderful and the sofa is ever so soft, perfect for me to sit myself in for as long as I desire... but, how can I possibly begin to calm myself when this train has corpses on it?!

Indeed, just a few train cars down from where I currently sit my posterior upon the sofa... Wood and Ranger lay in an eternal sleep inside caskets, ready to be put to rest upon our return to District Seven. I should go there, I should be with them before they're forever gone fro the world and sleep six feet under. But... I can't, it's just too painful to be right next to the coffins.

Plus, I can hardly walk on my own. I don't think I could make it over there even if I tried to. So, I guess what I will be doing instead is speaking at their funerals. Making a real statement, something honourable and full of love... just, something for them to be remembered by. I owe it to them both.

I soon turn on the TV, flicking my way through the channels for anything to distract me from the pain. The antidepressants are working, I guess, but nothing can truly remove the torment upon my mind. Maybe nothing ever will; as father once said, scars are forever. Sure, they fixed me up and removed all the physical ones I had when I was in the hospital area, but they can't do a thing for my mind.

Eventually I spot one of my favourite shows is airing... hmm, I haven't seen this episode. I guess it's as fine of a distraction as I'm gonna get. So, I set down the remote and try to relax a little as I focus my sad gaze upon the TV.

* * *

 _"Oh Fiona..."_

 _"Oh Lawrence..."_

 _"I missed you so much. I miss you now, too. Oh Fiona, why can't you stop being dead and jump into my arms once again?! Love me like you once did..."_

 _"I still love you just as I did when I was alive, even that time I was also a flesh eating goblin. But I'm dead, and I can't come back. Not until the penguin king returns my soul to me."_

 _"But Fiona, I need you in my embrace now! It's not the same, talking to your ghost possessing a teddy!"_

 _"Oh Lawrence..."_

 _"Oh Fiona..."_

* * *

"Oh Ranger..."

Tears well up in my eyes and I begin to sniffle. On the one hand I have to question the sheer unlikelihood that this episode out of all the thousands of them just so happens to be the one on TV right now. But, on the other hand... fuck... Lawrence is hanging in there for Fiona, so why can't I hang in there for Ranger and just, well, go see him?

I have no excuse. It may feel horrible and I'm ever so afraid right now, but I need to. I must! He'd do the same if the roles we have were reversed. Indeed, Wood needs a visitor too. He really came through for me and proved himself as a wonderful ally, and friend.

The issue that presents itself, though, is my inability to walk properly and how my wheelchair is packed up and put into a closet somewhere on the train. No crutches are in my sight either, so there won't be any 'easy' way to get myself to where the caskets are located.

Ok, fine. I'll just crawl myself there if walking isn't an option for me! If I could get through the rainy, flooded gauntlet to where Rammy had been holed up then I can drag myself along the ground through three train cars! Trendy and Johanna are at the bar car in the opposite direction and Blight is taking a nap to sleep off a bit of a hangover, so I shouldn't encounter anybody who might stop me reaching my destination.

Rising up, I wobble instantly and hold my arms out to try and keep some form of balance. A few seconds of worry pass before I feel confident that I'm standing with proper stability. Ok, let's try to get this 'learning how to walk again' thing figured out once and for all, shall we?

Left foot forwards, nice and slow.

Right foot forwards, careful now.

Left foot forwards-OH FUCK!

I groan in pain as I crash to the ground. How many times have I fallen on my face and landed in a most crumpled heap by this point? It's been too many times for my liking and it's certainly getting very old indeed. I sigh, knowing that I won't be relearning how to walk for quite some time yet. A few weeks at the minimum, more than likely.

Well, I did say that I could drag myself through three train cars if it were to come to it. So, that's what I start to do. It's awkward to crawl along with this cumbersome leg, but at least it's easier than attempting to walk.

"It's a good thing the doors open when you get near them," I mutter to myself as I crawl along. "Can't even reach a damn door handle from down here..."

* * *

 **(Three train cars of huffy crawling later...)**

* * *

The train car is very silent, perhaps even moreso than the others were. You could hear a tiny pin drop in a place like this. The windows appear to be sealed in some way; the place is only lit by a lamp upon a cabinet, casting the dark train car with a sort of haunting light. The way it reveals half of the caskets to me - the latter half remains shrouded in the shadows - makes my stomach do flip-flops.

Both caskets have a sort of golden metal plate upon the top of them with words inscribed into them. For the one on the left it read, 'Wood Ivydale. District 7 Male, 74th Hunger Games. 7th Place.' Nothing more than that. A truly ugly lack of anything. It doesn't do him any justice whatsoever.

That in itself is bad enough, but the casket on the right is the biggest gut punch. 'Ranger Temrys, District 7 Citizen'. ...That's it. Nothing personal, no condolences or acknowledgement of the tragedy. Already, I'm seeing red.

I manage to move a chair over to the space between the caskets and climb myself up so that I can sit in it. I don't bother to act strong anymore. Instead, I let myself cry it all out, as if I were a little girl once again. My friend and my lover, dead because of a tree mutt and a big boy from Ten... and, really, myself as well.

This is my penance for speaking out of turn. Feeling miserable, and realising just how severely I messed everything up. If I had just _taken the shot and kept my mouth shut_...

But nothing can change the past. Some would say crying solves nothing, but it's not ceasing the tears from cascading down my cheeks. It feels as though nothing will, so I just continue to cry. I slump myself over the casket that holds Ranger's corpse, my tears dripping upon it. He's not even a meter away from me, not really, but it feels like he's beyond a billion miles from me right now.

"You both deserved so much better," I whisper, my throat tightening as I choke out the words. "I... I'm sorry. I always thought I was good with my words, but... but now I'm clearly not the good speaker I thought I was, having f-f-failed you both. I'm... not sure who I am..."

I stay like this for a while, just weeping and letting all the pain out. It'll be better to sob out the weakness here where nobody is watching me. I need to appear strong, somehow, once I'm at the train station in District Seven.

I remain here for quite some time. I'm not sure how long it's been really, as there's no way to look outside and I'm not really concerning myself with keeping track of the hours that pass by. I just know that the passing of time really is not healing the metaphysical wounds that plague me. I guess once I get back home I can start finding some way to move on from all of this. Te pieces of my life may be shattered, but perhaps I could put them together and form something worthwhile nonetheless. Better than just moping around.

The door opens and I raise my head swiftly. Blight sees me and what seems like understanding enters his gaze. He walks over, pulling another chair up and sits beside me. For a while, we don't say anything. We just remain silent, paying our respects to the two boys of our District who so cruelly had their lives taken away.

"I'm not gonna sugar-coat anything. You're a mature young woman and you're a Victor like the rest of us, so the truth is all you deserve," Blight says some time later. "It never gets 'better', whether you've just won or you're watching the tribute you're mentoring years later die horribly. But, it does get easier as time goes by. Just like how, with Snow getting older, it'd be easier to strangle him if somebody got close enough. Props to any who would try."

Blight sighs a bit as he takes out a bottle of wine, sipping some of it. He looks at the caskets, disgusted. Deeply sighing again he takes a full swig.

"I'm no stranger to seeing two coffins on the way back home," he says, tapping his fake hand against the side of his chair. "But, this sure is a first. Two coffins, and a new Victor sitting beside me. Whoa Nettle, we're making history! ...You hate it as much as me, huh?"

"Sure do," I say, looking at the caskets morosely. "This should never have happened. Just... no... never..."

I hold out my hand, mutely asking for the bottle. Thankfully Blight is quick to pass it over, and so I take a nice long gulp from the bottle. I'm not exactly at the legal drinking age, but I give ever so few fucks right now. All that matters is I feel like tree sap and wine is said to make one feel a bit better. If nothing else, it tastes particularly pleasant.

"I'm glad you're alive," Blight says once I pass the bottle back. "Wood had been my original tribute, but frankly any Victor is better than none. Plus, with you being the future mayor and all, I guess this does work out for our District. Oh, that reminds me, I expect you to make a rule that 'all Victors of the fifty second Hunger Games get free wine for life'."

"I'll see what I can do," I say with a humourless chuckle.

"...I'm sorry for the fact Johanna just ditched you. It wasn't right," he says, shaking his head. "She's got a few chips on her shoulder, and if you ask me I think she has some sort of a grudge against the mayor. Point is, she fucked up and I'm glad I unfucked everything. You're a credit to your District."

"Am I though?" I ask, surely seeming as bitter as poisonous bark. "My fault Ranger's fucking _dead_. I got my lover killed. I got one of our _citizens_ killed. That's... it's just something that you don't do."

"The Capitol do it every year," Blight grunts. "They do it on purpose. You could never have known such a tragedy would happen. You only said what everybody thinks, anyway. Though, between you and me, I think much worse of them. Wood and I pondered the pros and cons of a Hunger Games with Capitol kids... gotta say, no cons were bought up."

"Does that make us any better?" I cannot help but ask.

"Does it really matter in the end?" he replies. "I think most in the Districts would agree to it if it were possible."

He takes another swig of the wine, soon corking the bottle once more and setting it down on the floor. He's silent for a bit, contemplative in fact.

"Yeah, maybe in some ways it may have been your fault, but it wasn't your intent. Whatever way you slice it, he's gone... so now the question is, how are you going to live life once you're back home?" Blight asks me, straight to the point. "Seventy three of us have had to get out of that Arena and put ourselves back together. I think I put myself together quite handsomely, personally. Point is, you're the newest Victor and you've got to put yourself back into one piece like the rest of us. You won the right to our life, and now you've gotta make the very best of it."

He leans closer to me.

"That means spend your time making laws to suit your mentor's needs," he says, stage whispering.

I can't help but snort over this. He is right, no questions or doubts about it; I have to stand up strong and somehow... move on. If Victors like Mizar, Spud and even Snag of my own District can do it, then surely I can as well, right? I... I don't want to end up like Pi is rumoured to have. Oh, no, ever such a bad idea to go that route...

"I'll see if I can get father to just give you free wine for life," I assure him. "But, yeah... you're right, I gotta do what any self-respecting Victor does and move on, somehow. I frankly have no idea how the actual fuckery I shall be able to do so, but I will try. I mean, I'm not the only Victor who lost a limb in the Arena."

"Exactly. Proof's all there that, in time, you'll find some way to make it work," Blight says, nodding. "I got your back if you need it, though I can't do Tuesdays. Ballet, you see."

"I'll try to keep my trauma to the other days of the week," I assure him, polite as can be. "I just... I should feel so empowered, like I can do anything. I got written off and yet I won... but I just feel like I'm much worse off and more than a little broken. Maybe I'm rambling-."

"No maybe, you are rambling," Blight states. "But, that's normal. Like I said, it doesn't get better but it gets easier and like you aid... you'll try and find a way, in time. Best you can do right now, y'know? The rest of us Victors in Seven will make you feel welcome."

"Pffttt. Even Johanna?" I ask, flat like paper.

"Eh, she's fun to play poker with," Blight shrugs, standing up. "Take as much time in here as you need, but you may want to take a nap before we reach District Seven. Plenty of cameras and crowds there to greet you. Damn paparazzi, like a pack of vultures."

"Actually, the term would be 'flock' of vultures," I say, prompt to correct him.

"Oh, you're one of _**those**_ kids," he groans, exaggerating his movements. "Give me strength!"

"I'm just saying, correct terminology is very important," I tell him, shrugging.

We soon part ways, but as Blight approaches the door a thought suddenly occurs to me. One that I simply cannot brush off or ignore. Not when it feel so... strange.

"Blight, who sent me that crate of supplies? I mean, like, the funding for it? Snow alluded to the fact it was suspicious," I say, suddenly tense. "Something doesn't feel right."

"I have no idea who sent it," Blight says. "Fake name got used, the whole 'they only exist on paper' kind of deal. Smart, but risky. But that's just it, the fake name reeks of funny business and I'm not laughing."

"Neither am I," I agree, yawning. "They said they wanted to hold me in their arms or something in the note, right? Seemed pretty personal, so... I guess I'll meet them at some point?"

"It's likely. Unless, of course, Snow gets them first. Shady sponsors that give stuff to tributes who show rebellious attitudes tend to end up on Snow's shit list. Last I heard, I was rank eighteen on it," Blight remarks as the door opens. "Keep your head down for now and you'll be fine. You've won, so now you take a rest, you hear? Maybe try some dream powder? It's good stuff. Takes you right off to the drugged up clouds, heheh."

Whistling along the way, Blight leaves and I'm once more alone with my thoughts. So much on my mind and so little time to go over any of it. I'm in no state of mind for it, not even remotely.

I feel the tears coming back and I let them flow freely. I think Blight is right; I should take a nap before I'm back home. I need to make myself presentable for the cameras. The better I look, the less trouble that I shall be in. I daresay I'm a bit above Blight's ranking of eighteenth on Snow's 'shit list'. Top five at least.

I let myself lean back on my chair, closing my eyes. For now, I'll let my tormented mind and soul get some rest. Once I wake up, I'll start the healing process and assess the damage of Seven once we're back. No way is the fighting and rioting gonna be over yet. I need to make a plan.

...Perhaps... a little bit a rebellious plan, if a way to do it and not get caught can be found.

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

At long, _**long**_ last the train pulls into District Seven. The strong scent of the forest fills up my nostrils. Unlike that horrible Arena, though, this time the smell of the forest fills me up with a warm, happy feeling. Some kind of mixture of nostalgia and purest relief. It's a forest from Seven. Seven means home. Home means safety.

Slowly, the train comes to a halt at the station and already I can hear the roaring, cheering citizens of my District outside. They all sound ever so delighted that I'm back. Perhaps in part they are happy as my victory means Seven gets more money and food this year, but I'd hope they're cheering for me as a person too.

Trendy fusses over her hair and make-up beside me, wanting to look her best for the cameras. To her, the idea of not looking like her namesake would imply is comparable to being a 'pitiful bloodbath'. Yeah, maybe she doesn't realise it - I honestly don't think she does, if we're being honest here - but those bloodbath tributes had lives, names and people who loved them. Maybe even more people than I have who are alive and love me.

At least she found me a nice set of crutches. They'll do for now, I guess. So long as I don't fall upon my face as soon as I step out of the train, I'll call them fine. Trendy warned me that if I were to do such a thing to her, she'd literally die. I don't think she was exaggerating, so... all the more reason to be careful as can be, I suppose?

"Finally, home sweet home," Johanna says, stretching out a bit. "I'll be at the tree bar if anybody needs me, do don't need me."

"I've never needed you," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Good. Keep on with not needing me," she says.

"Play nice Jo," Blight says, crossing his arms. "We're all Victors, we're all in this together... besides, I don't want you two fighting and ruining poker night next week."

Johanna drops it, but she snorts. I just give her a look, but soon put my focus back to the door. She's not worth it... although, Blight mentioned she may have a grudge against my father. What could this be? Part of me wants to ask him what he may have done, but the other part of me doesn't want to spoil the reunion. The latter part wins out, and I banish the thought for now.

"Ok everybody," Trendy says, her tone giddy. "Put on smiles, walk with confidence and _don't screw this up for me_! I'd rather the train ride back to the Capitol be full of me feeling good about myself, not using dream powder to forget whatever incident you get me stuck into."

"We'll be little angels," Blight says. He not-so-subtly crosses his fingers behind his back, much to my own amusement.

Trendy appears satisfied, and finally the door unlocks itself. It slides open and at once a blast of the familiar scene of Seven hits me stronger than ever. The cheering of the crowd is practically triple the volume of before, making me rather dizzy. But, they're all cheering, they're all happy... happy because of me. It's enough to lift the spirits of even the most moody of teenagers.

Johanna and Blight step out first and receive plenty of cheers. They swiftly move on and Trendy steps out as well, if only for a minute or two, so she can bask in the applause. I doubt any of it is for her specifically, but whatever makes her happy I suppose. The world could do with an exceptionally higher amount of smiles, after all.

Taking a breath, I hold my head up high and carefully make my way forwards with the crutches. It's slow and a little unstable, but I'm just barely managing to keep myself standing. Carefully, I step off of the train and set both my feet down upon the solid platform.

The response is near deafening. Everywhere I look there are citizens of Seven applauding, yelling, cheering and even dancing. It's the warmest welcome that I could have hoped for in light of all the tragedies. They're all glad to see me. I'm honoured.

Of course, I can't smile for the crowd for long. Not when the most important member of the crowd walks forth from the masses, his passage towards me permitted by the peacekeepers. His tall frame, the tidy blond hair combed down and cut short, the freckles that match my own... it's Mayor Bonsai. My father, the only family I've got left.

I limp myself forwards a few steps just as he walks his way up to me. For a few moments the crowd quietens down, and we gaze at each other silently.

"Nettle..." he whispers, his voice shaking like he can hardly believe that I'm back.

"I'm home, daddy..." I reply, my voice already trembling and tears in my eyes.

It's barely a moment before he's taken me into a very tight hug, one which I more than willingly return as best as I can. I'm home, I'm _home_...

The crowd all awwwwwww and applaud louder than ever as father and I embrace. Certainly, my problems are far from being anywhere close to halfway over, but in this moment right now everything just feels... right. Like I'm safe, and nothing can hurt me. Certainly a feeling I once took for granted and won't ever feel quite as much as I used to. I let the tears fall, embracing my father.

"Welcome home, Nettle," he whispers, his hold strong and gentle. "I was so... words cannot do justice the pain and fear I was feeling."

"I feel the same," I mumble.

"...We really did become distant, didn't we?" he says, as my tears of sorrow and joy stain his shoulder. "I was a mayor first, and a father second. Maybe third, or even fourth. No, not again. I almost lost you without really knowing you. If these terrible weeks have taught me anything it's that I need to start being a father first and foremost. So, let's start doing more things together. And, when work is on, you can help me... if you'd like to, that is."

"Father, I'd love nothing more," I choke out, hugging him close. I don't want to let go, never ever.

The cheering of the crowd feels much more distant now, and the presence of cameras crews is but a minor thought at the back of my mind. All that matters is that I'm with my family, and we might be able to finally fix the rift that was between us for so long. Imagine, the two of us playing croquette together - it's a rich people's game; lots of fun - and the laughs we'll have over it if one of us knocks a ball into a river or something.

There's only one smear on this otherwise picture perfect storybook ending. I'm not referring to political danger nor my leg. Not even the trauma upon my mind of what I was able to somehow survive. No, it's the fact Ranger and Wood are dead, their caskets being unloaded from the train.

Even when a Victor has been crowned for Seven, we still have two weeping families who will never be the same again. It's the same sorrow of a year of defeat, even though this year was a triumph. It's just not right. As I stand in an embrace with my father, I can see that the caskets are being taken away to the tribute graveyard. I suppose as Ranger died in the Arena, he'll be getting put in there too even if he wasn't a tribute per-say.

"Come on father," I whisper as I slowly rise out of his hold. "I think we've got a funeral to attend."

* * *

 **(Time passes...)**

* * *

The sunset is beautiful as its golden rays are cast upon the tribute graveyard. The crisp grass seems to shimmer under the sunlight, the orange honey-like sky making the grass appear almost... royal.

I guess it's just as well the place looks so beautiful, because everything else is so very ugly. It's a graveyard of dead children, killed by cruel rules and regulations out into place by the most terrible of regimes. As I hobbled into the graveyard, father supporting me at all times to prevent me from falling, it was impossible to miss the graves of Jakki Jones and Ty Maple-Strong of the 1st Games... may their poor souls rest peacefully.

After them, it was just a constant case of row after row of dead children. Whether they were twelve or eighteen they were still kids in the end. How can any form of government condone such wickedness? Simple, really; they don't care.

I've been here for quite some time now, paying respects to those who died. The Capitol 'funeral official' buggered off after a particularly rushed ten minute service. So, now it's become something a bit longer and more personal. Curfew isn't for a while yet and nobody here is rebelling, so it's not like there's any rules to stop us from saying goodbye to the dead.

Fuck... saying goodbye is hard. Perhaps the hardest thing I've ever done, emotionally at least. I've been sobbing for so long. From the moment I took a seat I was sobbing, right through the rushed Capitol service and now way into the personal District service. My eyes are red and feel ever so raw. This shouldn't be happening. Ranger was never meant to die! And Wood... oh, Wood... he deserved a far more dignified end. One past the age of eighty, for sure.

No, actually... better idea. Every single child who rests in this graveyard deserved better! It never had to be this way, it never had to become a yearly torment. The Districts rebelled, yes, but why? Because they had no rights, no money, no _anything_. The Capitol are no rulers of me, they're just filthy animals basking on a pile of greed and lies. Why not hep the poor or do everything they can to solve the typical crisis' per District? I'll forever wonder why President Orion and his wicked ministers felt child murder was the answer here. After all, I don't believe that I could ever find an answer that won't make me feel disgusted.

Right now Wood's mother speaks a few words at the front, but it's hard to make out what she's saying over her hysterical sobbing. Each tear is further proof of just how much she loved her son. My heart aches badly for her and Bramble, Wood's twin. I'm just glad that they don't cast any blame upon me for being the one here and not Wood. I'm not so sure I could handle it when I'm already broken beyond my breaking point.

I look beside me and see Bramble sits two chairs down from me. The man who had been sitting between us left a while ago, the atmosphere too grim for him. I pause for a moment, wondering if I should really say anything. But then, I remember Wood's final words before he died. His request that he made to me.

Sickly and sad as I may be, it's no excuse to not honour what Wood asked of me.

"Hey, um... Bramble?" I say, softly.

He turns to me, teary eyed. It's almost like I'm looking at Wood once again, like he never died at all. I guess that's often the way with twins; they're so hard to tell apart.

"...Y-yeah?" he asks, wiping some tears away.

"Wood, um... Bramble, he wanted me to tell you that 'it was his choice, and you don't need to feel bad'. I'm not sure what this means, exactly, but he said you would know," I say, wiping away some tears of my own. "I'm so, _**so**_ sorry for your loss."

"I owe him my life," Bramble says, sniffling as he looks at Wood's grave with an ever so miserable shudder. "He was a hero, he was... he... fuck, why did I let him..."

Bramble trails off and sobs. I'm not entirely certain as to what he was meaning right there. Maybe I'll never know. What is a fact, however, is that he's a person in pain and he needs help. I failed Wood, but I can still help his brother. So long as I live, I'll do what I can for my citizen. In fact, there's one thing I can do right now.

Blight had placed the bag of tribute tokens I collected in the Arena by my chair. Even with my inability to walk properly it's child's play to grab the bag up and root through it. I soon grasp hold of what I am looking for. It fills me with a stronger sense of melancholy than I already had when I gaze upon Wood's tribute token. The wooden doll.

"Here," I mumble as I pass it to Bramble. "It rightfully belongs to your family. I'm sorry."

Bramble sobs, holding the doll like it were a precious treasure. In this macabre context, it truly is a treasure. A reminder of the boy who was lost.

I sit silently for a while, continuing to listen to the funeral as it goes on. Father speaks some words, as do Ranger's parents. Friends of those who knew Wood and Ranger in life take the chance to get up and say words in their memory. Naturally, it's my turn soon enough. In some ways, it feels almost fitting that I am the one to close out this whole thing.

After all, I was the last person from the District to talk to them before their untimely deaths. It takes me a bit to hobble my way up to the front of the funeral area between the two graves - in the end, father has to help me make my way there - but, once I'm there I waste no time in getting right to the heart of the matter.

"On this summer evening, we're here to say goodbye to a pair of brave, wonderful young men. A... a goodbye that has come far, far too soon. I never expected my summer would have such a day come to pass, but then I suppose nobody ever expects to be reaped and have to live with the things they saw in the Arena," I suppress a shudder at the thought of it all, almost stumbling over in the process. "It's hard to know where to begin, exactly. But, for the loving memory of the two innocent lives that have been lost, I will do my best."

I wipe away a tear, trying to think of the right words to say. I guess it's hard to think it all over. It's gotta come from the heart. So then, let me brain stand on the wayside and my heart lead me forth. Let it help me say something good in memory of my friend and my... my... oh God, Ranger...

"I didn't know Wood at all before the reaping. But, he's the kind of guy who when he is first met... he's hard to forget, and I'd never want to forget him. Not for a moment," I say, starting to find the words at last. "I mean, why would anybody want to forget a boy so smart, so funny, so brave, so... himself. He was loyal and he fought like a badger. I didn't always get along with him and there were times I worried that... that he was my biggest foe. In the end though, I know beyond doubt that he was my truest friend in that horrible place. He was a loyal, he was an upstanding citizen... he'll.. he'll be m-m-missed..."

My heart pounds and tears leak down my face, thoughts of Wood swimming throughout my mind. His wolfish grin, that crazy laugh of his, the way he'd say something so inappropriate and then have the mocked party usually laughing anyway. He'd have made some guy the luckiest man in Panem. Wood...

But now, I cannot claim to be the luckiest young lady in Panem. Not when the young man who made me feel like that lays dead within a casket, buried in the other grave that has been dug. The mere sight of a grave I didn't expect to see for decades - or maybe even not at all if I'd passed of old age first - is enough to break me down all the more than I already am. I'll certainly be visiting the grave a lot in the near future. New flowers every day, no excuses.

I'm crying long before I realise I am doing so.

"Ranger was the love of my life," I sob out, shaking upon my crutches. "He brightened every day I was with him. He s-s-saved me from a falling tree at the cost of his leg. We... we did everything together. He even gave me hope when I was in that Arena, hope when I m-m-m-most needed it. I... I... oh Ranger! I'm sorry! _**I'm sorry**_! It's all my fucking fault!"

I can't stop myself stumbling over this time. I flop down and come to a stop beside Ranger's grave. My weeping becomes hysterical sobbing, my screams of regret and pain the loudest noise in all the graveyard. I feel somebody come forth to embrace me - father, maybe? - but all I can focus on is my stingy, salty tears and holding my arms around the grave as I scream and sob.

I did this.

 _ **I did this**_.

I was a hesitant little bitch who couldn't act when it mattered most, and then I spoke when I should've been silent. Now it's gotten my true love _**killed**_!

I cry and cry until I have no tears left, only the ability to wheeze and choke. Everything feels dark, every so distant from reality. I feel myself being led off, but I'm pretty much blind to it all. I'm suffocating on regret and panic.

I'm sorry Ranger. Whenever we meet beyond the curtain of death, if there's anything at all, _**please**_ forgive me...

* * *

 **(Later...)**

* * *

I'm home, for real and for always.

I never knew just how much I would miss just being able to sit around the manor and relax. I guess I took many things for granted. Far too many of them. I lived a lazy life, never leaving my comforting bubble of security and safety. Only now do I see just how precious, how _fragile_ , life is. Tomorrow, I begin living it to the fullest that I can.

Admittedly, that will be tough. I'm broken, both in my mind and body. I'm still terribly scared and full of so much guilt. It fucking _hurts_. My leg is gone, and walking on this fake leg is impossible for more than a few steps. Crutches are only good for a short distance of limping. Beyond that, I'm entirely dependant on something being beside me for physical support.

Is this my life now? Unable to even move much by myself and forever plagued by heartbreak? When put like that, was death ever such a bad thing... no. **No**. That's enough of that.

Ranger, bless his resting soul, was able to rise again after he lost his leg. I was there for him every step of the way. He rose up and kept walking as time passed by. He did it, I can do it too. Father is here, so I'm not totally alone.

It's so hard. So fucking hard... but, I can't give up. What kind of a disgraceful disservice would giving up on life be to all those who died in that wicked forest, those desperate to live? It'd be one bad beyond measure. Glancing at my feet, the bag of the tokens I collected only further confirms it to me.

I swear to it, these token will make it back to the families of the dead. I swear it as the future mayor of Seven!

...But, it's hard to feel any sort of drive right now. Hard to know what to feel in any way, shape or form. I'm home, back to normalcy, but not really. Nothing's the same. Every shadow I've seen has me feeling shaking and scared. Even a wonderful family dinner with father hasn't helped.

For now, I've taken shelter in my bedroom. I just need a break from it all, and... and... oh, I don't know what I need. Whatever it is, maybe it doesn't even exist?

My room is just as I left it. My president sized bed with the tree plushies neatly arranged upon it, my kettle collection carefully ordered on the shelves, my walk-in closet that has not a singe item out of order, the glass doorway leading to the moonlit balcony and, of course, the grand piano that I am currently sitting at.

All the same, yet nothing is ever going to be the way it once was.

Still, as bad as my leg has become my arms and hands made it out of the Arena without any long term damages. Aside the fact they're the hands of a killer, they the same as they always have been.

So, it's of no surprise to me that I've been able to sit at the piano - with help from father, of course... - and started to play some music. It's a sombre melody that I play as my fingers gracefully tap the keys. It all comes back to me like I never stopped playing the piano for the weeks I was gone. It's... soothing, in some ways.

But as my melody continues to play, certainly able to heard throughout the manor, I just can't get my worries off of my mind. I heard it from father himself, all the Districts were going mental in some areas. Even _Two_ was having riots, and they never rebel! Times are changing, and I'm not so sure it's for the better.

Is this how it all ends for me? The song I play is an old tune, one just known as 'An Ending', written by a man only known to Panem as 'T.F', but I certainly don't want this to be the way it comes to an end. With me broken and living a shattered life.

I narrow my eyes as I continue to play the piano. My tears burn, but the fire in my burns harder.

"I'm not broken. I'm a tree that's been chopped, battered, blown around and all kinds of other things... but I'm a tree that is still standing," I tell myself, firmly.

As much as I pep myself up, though, I am aware that I won't be sleeping tonight. It just hurts far too much right now.

Ranger, Wood, Gadget, Urchin... they and many others are all dead. I can't help but ponder if they may have deserved to live more than me. Urgh, look at me, pitying myself like I am. Nobody likes a Victor who cries and sobs day in, day out. The Capitol often mock that sort of a Victor on their talk shows, and I shan't be spoken of in such a way. I doubt my heart can take it...

A knock at the door gets my attention, and I call to whoever it is to come on in. No surprise to see it's father, though it's certainly nice that he's bought in some tea. He even used my favourite teacup, the one with the autumn leaf pattern on it.

"You're as talented as ever," he notes as I finish off the song, turning away from the piano.

"Just playing it the way you taught me to," I can only mumble.

"You're surpassed me, long ago," he says, waving off my praise with a smile. "Here, this is yours."

Ever so carefully, he passes me the teacup, gently laying it down upon the top of piano for when I'm ready for it. He warns me that it's hot, so I assure him I'll wait for a minute or two. For a time, we're quiet.

"How can I help?" he asks, setting down his own teacup.

"I'm honestly not sure," I say, sighing deeply. "I have no answers at all. Father, I have no idea what to do now. Tomorrow I'm supposed to move into the Victor Village, but... why? I'm happier here, with my personal space and everything I know. With _you_. not to mention all the riots and raging across the nation... how bad is it?"

"Our area is a tad better than most, if only because the Peacekeepers got everything fixed up for the cameras. But all the outer towns and poorer areas are a mess. Vandalism, riots, all sorts of criminal activity that I can't even blame anybody for... civilians and Peacekeepers died. I'm meant to punish several people, but I fully agree with them on this. They have righteous anger..." he begins to pace, looking particularly fretful. "Filling it all up will take a while, and that's even after the riots settle down. In out District and the rest... Nettle, it'll take months at best. I shan't sugar-coat, dearest, this may turn into an all out war if something isn't done about it."

"Snow wants me to end that war," I say, shuddering. "I don't even know if I can possibly do that, talk down so many angry people! ...Do I even want to? What do _**I**_ care if the Capitol has a hard time, after what they've done to me and many others?"

"I agree. I don't wish to help those who took my daughter away," father says, sitting beside me. "I doubt I could do much, even with the power I have in this District. I've already rebelled as it is, and if they find out about it, well, I won't be long for this place."

My breath hitches, my face a bit paler all of a sudden. I feel a pit form in my stomach. Father... rebelled? What did he do? What could he, such a by the book worker, _possibly_ have done?

"That tea has some special antidepressants in it," he tells me, quickly. "Blight said it will help you. Now, I don't know the man very well, but he did step up to mentor you and so I trust his word."

"... You know what, so I do," I say as I take a long, deep sip of the tea. I gulp it down, the warm feeling spreading throughout my body. "Does it act quickly?"

"I'm not sure, but it's the best stuff medical technology has. I'd assume this to mean it will be a prompt aid to you," father says, finishing his tea. "Now, you'll probably want to know what did, right?"

"It would be nice," I say, nodding slowly.

"Well... Nettle, I'll get straight to the point of the matter. I was the one who sent you that supply drop," he tells me, staring off into space. "That crate of gear was all from me."

What?! How... how can this be? It was surely massively expensive, beyond what even father can afford. I know this for a fact! Furthermore, how is sending a sponsor a rebellious action?

Wait... he can't have been able to afford it... oh dear...

"I can see it in your eyes that you're catching on," he says, appraisingly. "Early on you had supplies, so I felt it was safe to hold back a little when you were already well equipped. Plus, Johanna was hardly cooperative when it came to sending in funds, so people say. Then it all went wrong when the Arena began to fall apart. Prices kept being jacked up before anything could be done, and then you said what you did."

He pauses, thinking hard.

"Short and sweet, I... I embezzled quite a lot of money from Seven's funding meant for District quota to be met. I had to pull in so many favours and contacts to get it done, but the money was sent in under what I've been assured is a secure anonymous 'exists only on paper' method. So, you got the supplies you needed... it was all you in the end, really, but I'm just so glad I was able to do something for you, dear," he trails off, shutting his eyes. "If they find out it was me, I'm dead. But, frankly, if it means keeping my daughter alive then I'd do it a thousand times more. We've been strangers in the same home ever since your mother passed. It couldn't end like that."

Embezzlement... crime... rebelling... his life is on the line! All for me. All for how much he loves me...

I fling my arms around him, hugging him tightly. He returns the embrace in moments. I try to hard to not let the tears out, but it's quite a losing effort.

"Surely they'll notice the money is gone," I whisper. "Father, please, don't... don't leave me!"

"Fortunately, that's been taken care of," he says, as relieved as I am. "There exists the slim chance of them working out that the money was gone, but it was made back through bets placed upon your victory. You never had those odds in your favour, and thankfully my contacts knew just the amount to bet. So... the tracks have been covered. Perhaps you'd like to meet my contacts, actually? This will be easier to explain if you knew them and-."

I silence him with a tighter hug. This results in a tighter hug for myself... it's nice. but now my heart is pounding, a sickly feeling building within me. I finish off the tea quickly, hoping the soothing effect of what's in it might calm me down somehow.

Father rebelled and sent in an illegal sponsor.

He admitted there is a chance he could be caught.

He could be killed for this.

No, no, no... nononono. NO! The thought, the very idea... it's terrifying, especially as he's all I've got left. Please, _**not him too**_...

We're silent for a while, just sitting. I'm scared, but... to think father loves me so very much he'd do that, put his life upon the line and say he'd do it a thousand times more. He could've been caught at any time before I got home - he surely would've been if I'd not won and the bets wouldn't recuperate the finances that were missing! - and he still did it all the same.

I'm not just scared. I'm touched... there's no feeling quite like the knowledge somebody loves you, and would do anything to make sure you find your way through towards the end.

"...Thanks, daddy," I whisper, soft as a mouse.

"You're welcome, dear," he says, warmer than I've heard in years.

"...War is coming, isn't it?" I mumble.

"I'd call it more likely than not," he agrees, giving a slow nod. "Times are changing as the riots go on. They've probably not stopped completely for even an hour since Ranger passed."

"Think this might be what it takes to defeat the Capitol and end this horrific madness forever?" I ask, hopeful.

"Maybe. I don't know the answer to that question," he admits, tapping his chin. "It would take a powerful leader to oppose them, that much I do know. Right now, ideas of rebellion aren't my priority. Neither is my job."

He places a hand on my shoulder, gentle as can be. It's certainly not unwelcome.

"Right now, my priority is being your father and being here for you. So, please, whatever way I can help you, I want you to tell me. No matter how silly you may think it might be or if you think an issue is minor, tell me anyway and I will get it done. We're in this together as father and daughter," he says, bold and confident. I've never seen him so... alive. "...Axe no questions, tell no lies?"

"...Axe no questions, tell no lies," I agree, weakly smiling despite my many tears and hardly concealed heartbreak. "I'm so afraid. I'm so broken... I'm a _**fucking mess**_."

To this, he gives me a firm look.

"You are not a 'fucking mess'. You are Nettle Bonsai, my daughter," he says, leaving no room for argument. "I don't see how being who you are makes you such a dreadful thing. Oh, I know it'll be hard. I expect dark days ahead, but I'm on your side. I'm at your service. I am not letting you be alone in this testing time."

I try to believe him, but I'm not sure if I can. I may be alive, but the girl I used to be is dead. He looks over the music sheets I'd set up for my piano play and flips through them a bit. He spots one, weakly smiling.

"Want to play a duet?" he offers. "We haven't done that since you were six."

"... I'd love that," I say, nodding and wiping away the tears. "What song?"

"How about Fallen Down? The same one I used when I first started teaching you how to play this instrument," he suggests, putting the music sheet into place.

"Exquisite choice," I whisper.

With enough said, we begin to play the gentle melody side by side. No note out of place, no sound anything less than sublime, we make a great team as we continue to play the most soothing of melodies.

But even as we share this musical moment and patch up the void that had been between us, I can't stop the fear that's filling up my heart. I angered the Capitol and, whether deliberate or not, have led the world to a very unstable state and an even so uncertain future. War is likely, and Snow is going to be watching me with those terrible snake eyes of his.

I've lost so much and only kept the bare minimum of things in the end. My life. It feels like I've fallen down to rock bottom, though I suppose the best thing about this would be that I can only go up from here. Or, will I dig through rock bottom and downwards to to all new depths? I have no idea.

Past all of the pain, the trauma, the heartbreak... I do know at least one thing to be true. A grain of gleaming truth in this world of violence and lies. I'm stronger than Johanna believed me to be. I'm much stronger than I ever thought I could be.

Whatever comes next, I'll face it with my head held high.

I just pray that it'll be high enough...

* * *

 **END OF BOOK 1...**

* * *

There we have it, the curtain closes upon Nettle's first tale in this deadly, dark nation of Panem. A story of many ups and downs, mistakes and fixes both for Nettle and myself from a writing standpoint. I'll be going into depth on my notes on Nettle as well as plenty of beta / scrapped content on my DeviantART page, and trust me when I say I have a lot to talk about. In the end though, I feel the things I have learnt writing this story will help me future writing quite a lot, both HG stories and original projects for later dates. So, on the whole, having learnt a lot I'd call this a worthwhile venture. But, as I said, the DA journal will have deeper evaluation.

Until then... how about we find put who is the next tribute to make their debut in this series? :o

* * *

 **THE 5TH PROTAGONIST OF THE NAMELESS CHRONICLES**

 **STARLIGHT SPECIAL**

Katniss wasn't the only volunteer for the 74th Games outside the Career Pack. An overlooked volunteer with power to rival that of a Career, the District 8 Male steps up for the Games as part of a special plot from District Eight. Avoiding the accident of falling off of the training equipment thanks to his District Partner, Callico enters the Arena at full power from the get-go. With great courage and a heart of gold, can he win these deadly Games he's prepared himself for, or will being too friendly and the #1 target of the Careers lead to a grisly, terrible fate?


End file.
